From Camlann to Avalon
by CJBH
Summary: A re-telling and expansion of the final journey of Merlin & Arthur, with new scenes, more dialogue and flashbacks to fill in gaps (eg the establishment of Albion, Arthur and Gwen's wedding, Arthur's monarchy). The final addition - how the centuries are filled leading up to the day that Merlin has been waiting and longing for - the day of Arthur's return.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's notes**_

_**So here's the start of the story I've been wanting and waiting to write for three months. This is the story for those of you who watched Episode 5.13 and thought, "How?" when Arthur says to Merlin "**_ _**Everything you've done, I know now…..,"or thought, "Eh?" when Kilgharrah says to Merlin "All that you have dreamed of building has come to pass," or who wondered if Gaius had some sort of medieval X-ray device to know about the piece of sword moving towards Arthur's heart. This is for those of you who, like me, wanted to know more about what happened later, what happened earlier (eg who wanted to see Arthur and Guinevere getting married), or who just wanted more! **_

_**Through the re-telling and expansion of scenes (what did they talk about when Merlin was feeding his wounded king?) and through flashbacks to some imagined new scenes and stories, this aims to fill in what I felt were some gaps and things that didn't get the explanation they were crying out for because of the limitations of a 45 minute episode (or two).**_

_**I haven't looked on the site to see if anyone's written anything similar, so if there are already similar things out there - apologies. I only searched to check that no-one had already taken the title that's been in my head for the last two and a half months: From Camlann to Avalon. This story doesn't cover everything from the episode (and the bits leading into it), but focuses mainly on Merlin, Arthur and Gwen. And, of course, one huge acknowledgement to Jake Michie and Julian Jones who between them wrote the final two episodes – their words and scenes are reproduced here without permission (although I am in the process of seeking it!) and provide the framework for this story. And apologies for the fact that this first chapter is more of a prologue – I'm working on the story today, and hopefully there will be another chapter by the end of the day with some genuinely new stuff. It's all there in my head – I just have to write it down. **_

_**Enjoy! (and if you also have any other unresolved niggles from the ending – yes, yes, apart from the fact that Arthur dies – send me a DM and I'll try to resolve them too!)**_

Chapter 1

_It ends here._

The words came unbidden into Arthur's mind as he wheeled his horse round into the narrow pass that he'd previously only seen drawn on a map – the map that he and the other knights had pored over back in Camelot. He'd known that to reach their land, Morgana and her army would have to cross the White Mountains. Looking at the charts laid out on the table before him that day, he'd also known that there was only one pass that would give passage to an army the size of hers. He'd pointed to it on the map, and it had been Percival who had supplied its name: Camlann.

And now here it was, in front of him. As he rode slowly along, Arthur looked at the cliffs on either side of the pass – they were just as his knight had described. _ Yes, this was the perfect place to put his plan into action. _ Although his army was outnumbered by his sister's troops, Arthur knew that if they could hold the pass, they would eventually drive Morgana and her army back. Arthur stopped his horse and raised his hand, signalling to the other knights to stop also. He surveyed once more the scene before him: the narrow pass surrounded on all sides by rock. "This is it. Camlann."

There was, however, something about the place that left Arthur feeling deeply uneasy. A cold wind blew through the pass making him shiver slightly. He knew that everything rested on what happened there in the hours that would follow. "The fate of the kingdom will be decided here." Gwaine looked around – he shared Arthur's sense of foreboding – and Arthur continued: "Make camp, take up positions."

But before any of them moved, Leon spoke up from his position just behind the king: "It's a death trap, sire."

"That's the idea."

Leon continued, "Morgana will have no means of escape -" He paused: "But neither will we."

Arthur voiced again the reason why they were all there: "They'd always outflank us – this is our only chance."

Percival and Gwaine continued to look at the harsh, unyielding cliffs that seemed to press in on them and hem them in – neither of them liked their odds, but they kept their feelings to themselves. However difficult the battle ahead may be, they believed in Arthur and would follow him anywhere – even to their deaths. Arthur turned his head to face his old brother at arms, finally giving voice to the words that had come into his head: "It ends here, Leon. Be it life or death…"

Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly to himself, as if committing himself afresh to his chosen course of action: "… it ends here."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's notes**_

_**This is, of course, going to go for a while pretty much along the lines of the episode until we get to the journey, but there is also some new stuff here and an attempt to describe what the characters are feeling, so I hope you will still enjoy reading this even though you will have seen it. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but a picture still can't tell you what it's thinking or feeling!**_

Chapter 2

The camp set up for Camelot's army would not see much sleep that night. Weapons were being prepared, positions were being set up, and patrols were being sent out. And it was one of those patrols that returned with the message that Morgana and her army were getting ever closer to Camlann. But of far greater significance were the movements that no patrols would ever see, as Merlin stirred in a cave far away at the sound of his father's voice:

"Merlin…"

Merlin, barely conscious and still lying on the ground, whisper one word in reply: "Father?" He found himself bathed in a blue light as he turned towards where the familiar voice had come from – and standing there before him was the man who he had known for such a painfully short time.

"My son"

Merlin voiced the only questions that seemed important to him at that moment: "Are you here? Are you real?"

"Dead or alive, real or imagined, past or present. These things are of no consequence. All that matters is that you heed the words of your father who loves you. Do not let go Merlin. Do not give in."

Although the words stirred something deep within Merlin, the sense of utter defeat that had filled his heart such a short time before couldn't easily be dispelled: "I have no reason to go on. The battle is already over. Morgana has won."

"Only if you accept defeat. But if you fight, if you let hope into your heart, Morgana cannot be victorious."

"What hope is there, without my magic?"

Balinor crouched down to be closer to his son and he looked directly into his eyes: "Merlin. You are more than a son of your father. You are a son of the earth, the sea, the sky. Magic is the fabric of this world… and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself. You cannot lose what you are."

Merlin whispered back, "But how do I find myself again?"

"Believe, Merlin. Believe what your heart knows to be true. That you have always been and always will be…"

Merlin echoed his father's words, "Always will be…."

"Rest now. Rest, my son. And soon you shall awaken into the light."

~~~ O ~~~

Arthur sat, dressed in a simple white tunic, at his makeshift desk in the tent that he and Gwen were sharing in the camp, deep in thought. He clasped his hands in front of his face, elbows resting on the table on which were strewn maps of the surrounding area and his battle plans. His eyes lifted as Gwen came into his field of vision, and a smile came to his face as his wife leant against the tent-pole and smiled back at him. It only took a few moments, however, for the troubled look to return to his face as he broke eye-contact with her. "What is it?" asked Gwen. Arthur suddenly looked as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He rested his forehead against his hands, and rubbed his head back and forth against his hands before replying: "What if Sir Leon was right? Perhaps we should have made our stand in Camelot." He raised his head to look at Gwen again, desperately needing some reassurance that he had made the right decision. Gwen moved towards her husband, until across the table from him and he was looking up into her face. "Your plan is brave. And bold. And our only chance to defeat Morgana once and for all. Yes, we could have held out in the citadel, but for how long, and at what cost to the kingdom?" Arthur listened to Gwen's voice, thankful once again that he had married her and for her wise words of counsel and support. She continued with a growing passion and conviction in her voice, "I have never for a moment doubted the valour and the wisdom of this choice."

The troubled look seemed to leave Arthur, and he smiled once again. He took his arms off the table, and pushed his chair back as he rose to his feet and walked around the table to his wife and his queen. "If you do not doubt me, Guinevere, then I do not doubt myself." He approached her and took her hands in his, as he drew her close. "And that gives me a strength greater than any weapon." As he wrapped his arms around her, she put her arms around his neck, kissed him and they stood for several moments, just holding each other tight. As they pulled apart again, Gwen said, "Come. We must rest while we can." Arthur smiled again, and lifted Gwen, laughing, into his arms to take her across to the bed.

Normally, Arthur carrying Gwen to bed meant only one thing. But this was not 'normal." This was the night before a battle, and the bed that they were sharing was in a tent pitched in their army's camp. Arthur would never dream of making love to his wife whilst his men were sleeping in far rougher conditions than he was enjoying. There were men, even as they went to their bed, risking their lives to keep watch on Morgana and her movements, and Arthur had to be ready to go into battle at a moment's notice. For those reasons, the king and queen's last night in Camelot had been the time and place where they had expressed their love for one another deeply and passionately for what they both knew might be the last time. This night, Arthur remained clothed, whilst Gwen slipped into her white embroidered night-gown, and both then lay down together, with a single thin cover pulled up over them.

Despite the confidence she had in her husband, as Gwen lay beside Arthur on the bed, a deep dread filled her heart. This would be a battle like no other. They were facing not only the Saxons, but Morgana – and Mordred. The thought of the young druid who had become one of Arthur's most trusted knights filled her with fear. She remembered the words that Gaius had spoken to her once, when Arthur had been away trying to rescue his men from Ismere. Gaius had told her that there were some druids who were hostile to Camelot, who blamed Uther for their suffering in the Great Purge and who believed that Arthur was no different from his father. He'd said that the fact that sorcery was still outlawed meant that those Druids felt that little had changed under Arthur's rule. And she remembered the words that he had then said that had chilled her heart and that had haunted her since that moment: _There are those who believe that Arthur is destined to die by a Druid's hand. _

She knew that Mordred was out there somewhere, not far away, and that he would now harbour a great hatred towards the man she loved. She suddenly felt a chill that had little to do with the night air. She moved closer to her husband, and whispered, "Hold me, Arthur." Arthur wrapped his arms around her, and they lay together quietly, just content for a while to be close to each other and breathing in the scent of the other that was so familiar. Without looking at Gwen, Arthur suddenly spoke, voicing the guilt that had been gnawing away at him. "I called Merlin a coward... when he said he wasn't coming." Both of them were silent for a few moments, and neither moved. Then Gwen turned her face up towards him, "You didn't mean it, I'm sure." Arthur didn't immediately reply. He remembered so clearly the hurt he'd felt when Merlin had said he wasn't going to accompany him. "I was stupid. It felt like he was abandoning me when I needed him most. I couldn't think why he would do that."

"You know what I told you – Gaius said Merlin was doing something of the very greatest importance, something he couldn't tell us about."

Arthur sighed, "I still find that hard to believe, and I certainly didn't believe it then." He paused, and then went on to confess the true reason for what he had said. "It hurt and I just wanted to say something to hurt him back. It was wrong and I can't believe those were the last words I said to him."

Gwen thought for a moment, "I'm sure he knows you didn't mean it."

"I hope you're right – but that doesn't excuse what I did. When you see him – if you see him - tell him that I'm sorry."

"You can tell him yourself, Arthur, when you see him."

"But if -" Arthur broke off. He didn't want to upset Gwen by saying the words, _if I die._ So he continued instead, "- if you see him before I do, tell him anyway."

Gwen gave a little nod, and snuggled into Arthur's embrace once more. Despite all that faced them in the hours ahead, she was for that moment at least in the one place she'd always felt safest – with Arthur's arms around her, and her head on his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart. And there they both lay, and eventually drifted off into sleep.

~~~ O ~~~

Mordred returned to Morgana with the news that Arthur had made his camp at Camlann, and also with the news that he had found the well concealed path that she had sent him to search out. Morgana smiled cruelly, "If Arthur imagines we can't outflank him, he's in for an unpleasant surprise. Send a hundred warriors. Good ones." Mordred nodded his agreement, and promised to pick the men himself. Their exchange finished with Morgana's final command to him: "We attack tonight."

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin woke, feeling inside him a hope that had not been there before. He drew himself up onto his knees, looked around him, and knew that the moment of truth had come. He cupped his hands together, whispered "Gewyrc an lif!" into them, and his eyes glowed gold. He felt a fluttering in his hands, and with a look of delight and wonder on his face, opened them to release a beautiful blue butterfly into the crystal cave. He laughed to himself, but almost immediately his expression changed into one of steely resolve. He looked intently around, not fearing this time what the crystals had to show him, but determined to use them for his purposes. He desperately needed to find out what was happening with Arthur at Camlann – and even more urgently, what Morgana and her forces were doing. He focused all his attention on one particular group of crystals and held out his hands towards them. The crystals began to fill with images of flames and scenes from his life in Camelot: the time when the dragon had rescued him from the serkets, Morgana holding the dagger with which she had sought to kill Uther – and then he saw skulls. Merlin drew his hand back suddenly, as if it had been burned by the flames, but it only seemed to increase his resolve to master the crystals. He stretched out his hand once more and once more images flashed before him: the vial with the waters of Avalon, the hand lifting Excalibur from the lake, and then – what he had needed to see – Mordred, dressed in black, on horseback and leading a large group of soldiers. Merlin stared even more intently into the crystal: he saw the cup of life, Morgana, Lancelot's funeral pyre, and himself crying out to Kilgharrah, and then back to the present once more, he saw Mordred leading the soldiers up a pass, and suddenly Merlin knew what their plan was – and knew what he had to do.

Now he required something different from the crystals, and he whispered urgently, "Arthur, where are you?" The next images yielded by the translucent glowing stones began to focus on the king himself. After seeing the dragon in flight, Merlin saw himself near death as Arthur had sought the morteus flower for his healing, the axe that had been raised by Morgause when she was testing Arthur, the eye of the phoenix that had almost been his downfall, Arthur himself, the unicorn that Arthur had killed, and the black knight that had interrupted the ceremony when Arthur was being made crown prince. And finally Merlin saw the camp of the king, and Arthur and Guinevere lying together asleep. Merlin knew that he had to get a message to Arthur, and he spoke directly to him in his sleep. "Arthur… Arthur, I'm sorry I had to leave you. I didn't want to. I hope one day you'll understand why. Your plan is a good one and you may yet save this kingdom, but you must beware. Your army's flank is vulnerable. There's an old path over the ridge at Camlann. Morgana knows of it. She means to trap you, Arthur. Find the path or the battle will be over before it's begun." There was an urgency and insistence in Merlin's last words to the king: "Find the path!"

~~~ O ~~~

Arthur opened his eyes; he half expected to find Merlin standing there by his bedside, so real did the words of his servant sound to him. And the words that he'd heard didn't have the confused feel of those in a dream – they didn't begin to slip from his grasp as consciousness took over – they still were ringing in his ears, the urgent tone in Merlin's voice impressing them deeply on his mind. Arthur began to raise himself, a look of both perplexity and concentration on his face. Gwen began to stir as she felt him move. She turned her head towards him, and was surprised to see his expression that looked, for all the world, as if some strange new revelation had just dawned on him. She lifted her head off the pillow and asked, with a look of deep concern on her face, "What's the matter?" Arthur didn't speak for a moment, but the strange look on his face persisted, and then he uttered a single word: "Merlin…"

Gwen remembered what they had been talking about before she drifted off to sleep. "It was a dream, Arthur. Just a dream."

But Arthur could still hear Merlin's words echoing in his head, and he had the strange conviction that the words that he'd heard were not only actually from Merlin, but were also absolutely true. He shook his head slightly, "It didn't feel like a dream. It felt…" Arthur struggled to find the words to describe what had just happened, but suddenly knew that acting on it was infinitely more important than being able to explain it. He left the sentence unfinished, and with a sudden urgency and haste, threw back the cover and propelled himself out of the bed, leaving Gwen deeply concerned and none the wiser about what was happening. She called after him, "Arthur…" but he was already pulling on the tunic that went under his chain mail as he disappeared out of the tent.

Leon was already on his way to Arthur: "Sire. The scouts report that Morgana's army is on the move."

Arthur stopped, still only half dressed. "She'll attack before the night's done. Tell the men to prepare."

Even before the words, _Yes, sire,_ had left Leon's mouth, Arthur was already on his way to find his other two most trusted knights: "Percival, Gwaine."

He'd found them preparing for battle, and they turned to face their king and waited for his command.

"Take a patrol of men to the rear of us. You're looking for a hidden path running into the mountains. She means to outflank us. We must stop her now."

The two men didn't wait to stop to ask how Arthur knew this – in all their preparation for battle he had never mentioned it before. Instead, they moved with the same urgency that they had heard in their king's voice, ready to carry out his orders. And it was only a short while later that Percival was lowering his torch and looking at the path that Arthur had spoken of, a look of horror on his face as he realised how close they had come to almost certain defeat, even before the battle had started.

After Arthur had issued some further orders, he hurried back to the tent and found that in the short time he had been absent, Gwen had not only dressed in a simple, practical outfit, but was standing beside his chain mail and weapons that had been laid out on the table for him, waiting to help him dress for battle. This was a task that Merlin normally did, but it had been Gwen who had taught Merlin how armour was put on in the first place, and she was well able to assist her husband in Merlin's absence. As she began buckling the straps of his arm guards against his back, Arthur said simply, "This is it, Guinevere – Morgana is advancing. It is time for us to go out and meet her." Before she handed him his sword, Gwen threw her arms around him one last time and held him tightly, as if she never wanted to let him go. She whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, "I love you, Arthur – more than I can ever say."

He closed his eyes as he rested his head for a moment on hers, replying "You're the only queen I ever wanted, Guinevere – you have always been, and always will be, the love of my life." Arthur pulled back enough to be able to kiss her for a final time.

Gwen gave a little smile that masked the fear and dread that was threatening to engulf her heart. "I'll be waiting for you Arthur, when you return."

He smiled, nodded, and with that he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note**_

_**And this chapter will take the story up to the point at which I can start properly adding to it. But what a chapter to transcribe from the DVD! (and the chapters will be slightly longer in coming after this one)**_

Chapter 3

Arthur stood on a small rocky ledge, facing his men, knowing that the hour of destiny was upon them, and knowing that he needed to find the words that would inspire his army to go up against a foe that exceeded them in numbers – and an army that had Morgana and her magic on its side. He chose his words carefully and deliberately. "Tonight…" he began, and then paused before continuing: "…we do battle. Tonight we end this war. We end a war as old as the land itself. A war against tyranny… and greed… and spite. Not all will greet the dawn. Some will live. Some will die. But each and every one of you fights with honour… and with pride. For not only do with fight for our lives, we fight for the future. The future of Camelot. The future of Albion. The future of the United Kingdoms!" The heart of each and every man stirred within him at the king's words. Arthur paused, and drew out the sword that had, unbeknown to him, been forged for him in the dragon's breath, the sword that he had drawn out of the stone as the true king of Camelot. He lifted the sword into the air. "For the love of Camelot!"

His battle cry was greeted by the deeply heartfelt echo of his men: "For the love of Camelot!" as other swords were raised high into the night sky. And also unbeknown to Arthur, he was being watched by Merlin, many leagues away in the crystal cave.

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin heard steps behind him and turned once again to face his father. He thanked him for his help and guidance, but Balinor had more to say: "You stand tall on your own two feet, Merlin. You always have done." When Merlin replied that he was only following in his father's footsteps, Balinor replied, "Your journey has only just begun. You wield a power you cannot yet conceive of. Only in the heart of the crystal cave will your true self be revealed. Move towards the light. Your destiny awaits. Do not be afraid. Trust in what you are. Trust in what will be." And with that, Merlin left his father's side and began his walk further up into the cave. He paused and turned. "Goodbye, father."

"There are no goodbyes, Emrys. For I will always be… as you will always be."

Merlin did not really understand his father's words – it would only be as the future unfolded and the years passed by that he would begin to grasp their meaning: that his life would not fade and die like that of other men. But back at Camlann, there were countless soldiers who didn't know whether they were going to live to see the dawn of another day – and Merlin would be back with them soon, but not quite yet.

~~~ O ~~~

Arthur stood at the front of his army. Some kings would observe a battle and issue their orders from afar. But Arthur had always believed, as his father had done before him, that the king's place was at the head of his troops. And Arthur would always put himself in the most vulnerable position – the front. Morgana stood high on a rock, looking out over the battlefield. It was from there that she would wield her power and bring destruction and death upon Arthur and his army. Metal scraped on metal as Arthur once again drew out his sword. But it would be his words that would propel them all into action and into the battle that would decide the fate of the kingdom: "On me!" And as Arthur began to run forward, his knights surged forward alongside him with a roar. Sword clashed upon sword as the king and the knights of Camelot penetrated the enemy lines, and soon the two armies were mingling together as the slaughter began.

High above the battle in the pass, Percival was echoing Arthur, "On me!" as Mordred's men ran forwards to meet the Camelot patrol. Once again swords clashed and men on both sides began to fall. Back down in the pass, the noise, confusion and blood of the battle intensified. Arthur pushed forward, using his body as well as his sword as a weapon. First this way and then that he turned to meet the foe as they attacked all around him, and his sword never failed him. It had not been without good reason that the dragon had warned Merlin years before about the power wielded by the sword and the danger of it falling into the wrong hands. But in the hands that the sword was destined for - the hands of Arthur Pendragon - the sword always seemed to find its target and Saxon after Saxon fell before him as he moved forwards. But on the battlefield there was another sword forged in a dragon's breath, the sword that was wielded by Mordred. Once he had found the path that Morgana had spoken of, he had sent the men that he had chosen along it, to outflank Arthur's army, whilst he returned the main battlefield. And he returned with one purpose more than any other in his heart: to kill the person who had murdered Cara, the love of his life – to kill King Arthur. And far away, Arthur's protector – Emrys – burst out from the crystal cave.

Merlin rode furiously through the night, knowing that the outcome of the battle – and Arthur's fate – still hung in the balance. Any delay could provide fatal, and so he rode with all his might, constantly urging his steed on. Mordred, meanwhile, continued to forge his way through the battle lines. After every fresh kill he glanced about him, looking for the one adversary he wanted to face more than any other. Arthur had taught him well, and with the powers that his sword held, he too was almost invincible – almost, but not entirely. When he found himself completely circled by a group of the knights of Camelot, it seemed as if he was facing impossible odds. And they would have been, were it not for Morgana. Just one glance and flash of her eyes, and every single one of them was thrown backwards to the ground. Mordred looked around and up, and found Morgana's eyes. The two nodded to each other, and the battle continued. But that was not all that Morgana had to throw at her enemies.

A dragon screeched high in the sky over the mêlée and as Arthur looked up to where the sound was coming from, he saw the unmistakable silhouette of a creature like the one that had almost brought utter destruction upon Camelot. Arthur and his men all crouched down as the dragon swooped low overhead, breathing fire down upon them. The break in the fighting was only momentary, however, and soon Arthur was on his feet again, swinging his sword against the Saxons who continued to pour into the pass. They were holding their ground against them, but Arthur knew that the battle was far from over, and he knew that Morgana was still at large. Leon fought nearby, and time and time again the two men cut down those who came against them. Arthur swung again, and another man fell, and he twisted round to face any that may be coming at his from behind. And suddenly he found himself facing what no man on a battlefield ever wanted to face – a simultaneous charge against him by half a dozen of the enemy. Arthur knew that he stood little chance against such a charge, but also knew that he had to face it. He took a deep breath – one that he feared would be his last – and dropped down to brace himself against the onslaught. He put his sword behind him and then swung it round to meet them – but all his sword found was air, as each and every one of the men was thrown backwards, as if they had run into an invisible wall between themselves and Arthur.

Arthur swung his sword around to meet another charge from behind him, but found himself almost blinded by a flash of lightning that once again propelled his assailants backwards through the air. He found himself standing surrounded by a circle of dead Saxons on the ground near his feet, and he knew that his sword had not struck a single one of them. He stood, with no living enemy close by him, and stared around in bewilderment. His eyes finally came to rest on the solitary figure standing silhouetted against the sky – and suddenly against the blood red of the light on the horizon, Arthur recognised him – the elderly sorcerer he'd met before. But any of the previous thoughts he may have had about the sorcerer being weak or feeble were dispelled as the figure raised a staff and sent lightning once again out on to the battlefield, felling another charge by the Saxons in an instant. Arthur heard the scream of his sister over the noise of the battle: "EMRYS!" and then watched, stunned, as a further strike from the sorcerer's staff sent her flying backwards too. _Emrys. _The name sounded familiar to Arthur, and then he suddenly remembered the words that Morgana had thrown at him once before: _Not even Emrys can save you now._ But Arthur had no further opportunity to think about what it all meant. Two more lightning strikes from the sorcerer struck more Saxons down and then almost immediately Arthur heard again the screech of the dragon as it once more prepared to strike his army. But he also heard, above the noise, words that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up:

"Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai. Waes!"

And as the words rang in his ears, he watched the dragon swoop down towards his men, and then hang in the air as if again held back by an invisible wall, before turning and then flying back away over the battle, disappearing out of sight over a ridge into the White Mountains. Arthur stood staring at the white-haired figure on the horizon, and he knew that the warlock was looking directly back at him. He could not understand why this sorcerer, who'd tried to help him once before but who'd end up killing his father, was now standing them fighting for the forces of Camelot, fighting for _him. _ But all that Arthur knew at that moment was that whoever he was and whatever his reasons, he had turned the battle finally and decisively in Camelot's favour. He turned to face the knights who had been fighting not far behind him, and raised his sword in the air, crying out in a loud voice once more, "For the love of Camelot!" And with that, Arthur Pendragon, the King of Camelot, swung his sword around in his hand, and turned to lead his men in a final charge against their foes as the sorcerer's lightning once more struck ahead of them.

And away from the battle-lines, Gwen stood with Gaius looking at the mysterious figure who she had never set eyes on before: "Who is that?" she asked the elderly physician.

"Someone truly remarkable," was the reply she received.

There was a surprised tone in Gwen's voice: "You know him?"

"Let's just say he deserves our gratitude"

As Gaius turned to go back into the medical tent, Gwen stood watching the sorcerer, until he suddenly turned and disappeared from view.

~~~ O ~~~

It took some time for Merlin in his elderly form to make his way down onto the battlefield. He'd been relieved beyond words to see Arthur still standing there, but his heart was beating fast as he began to pick his way through the fallen in the pass at Camlann, many of them Saxons but a worrying number of whom wore the red cloaks of Camelot. He could hear the distant yelling of the battle some way ahead of him, but his eyes were constantly searching out the one person he yearned to see – the one person he dreaded seeing fallen at his feet. Torches, shields and weapons lay strewn across Merlin's path, together with bodies, but Arthur was no-where to be seen – but neither was Mordred, and Merlin continued on, his faced etched with fear and concern.

~~~ O ~~~

Arthur and his men forged ahead, but there came a point when Arthur engaged several Saxons in quick succession and, after despatching the last one with the ruthless efficiency of a trained soldier, he stood for a moment to catch his breath and assess the progress of the battle. He was about to forge forward with the last of his men when he noticed one of his knights lying wounded on the ground, and reaching out to him for help. Arthur hurried back and crouched down beside him, but then realised as the man's arm dropped down that he was too late.

Arthur did not see the figure dressed in black that emerged from a gap in the rock behind him, but for a reason he could not explain he felt a sudden chill run through him and it was then that he heard the sound of slow footsteps approaching him and the scrape of metal upon metal as a sword was being drawn. In one fluid movement, Arthur twisted himself around, and instinctively swung his sword up to meet the blow that he knew was coming, and rose to his feet as the clash of the two swords sent a jolt through his body. And he found himself standing facing the young knight in whom he had put so much of his trust. Even on the battlefield, facing the young druid whose life he had once saved, there was still a part of Arthur that couldn't bring himself to believe that Mordred meant him any harm – and he lowered his sword. And that tiny moment was all that Mordred needed, and he drove his sword into and through Arthur. For several moments he held Arthur there in excruciating pain, impaled upon his sword, as he savoured the heady taste of revenge, and then he withdrew the sword and watched with cold satisfaction as King Arthur crumpled to his knees before him. As Mordred stared down at the vanquished king, he remembered the words he'd heard Morgana use - Arthur's Bane – and he believed himself to be the incarnation of those words. But as the Euchdag had correctly told Merlin, that title belonged to Arthur himself – and the prophecies began to find their fulfilment the moment Arthur's misplaced trust gave the druid the opportunity he needed.

Mordred calmly told Arthur, "You gave me no choice," but his words ignited a fire of rage within Arthur. _No choice? Had he not given Cara a choice and the chance of a way out? He had shown her all the mercy he could. And in return, it had been Mordred who had chosen to betray him. _Before Mordred could realise what was happening and react, Arthur had summoned all the strength he had left within him, and thrust his sword upwards with all his might and into Mordred. He grabbed the top edge of Mordred's armour with his other fist, and as Mordred had done to him, he held him there on the sword. But unlike Mordred, he made sure that his job was done and, with the anger still burning inside him, he jerked his sword upwards through Mordred's body, and again held it there before finally pulling it out. He continued to hold the body of the druid up with his hand, and as they stared at each other through a haze of pain, a grin spread across Mordred's face: Arthur may have dealt him a mortal blow, but he had dealt the king one first, and Arthur Pendragon would die at his hand.

As the smile began to fade from the druid's face, Arthur finally let go and let him fall to the ground at his feet. But as Mordred's lifeless body hit the earth, Arthur suddenly became acutely aware again of his own wound and of a blinding pain that seemed to fill his whole body. And with that awareness his usual ability to think clearly and quickly on the battlefield suddenly left him, and he found that didn't know what to do – and there was no one around to help him. He put his hand down to his wound. _He was wounded, and wounded badly. He needed to find Gaius. Yes, that's what he would do. He would go back to the camp and find Gaius. _He turned slowly away from the direction from which the Saxons had come, but only managed half a dozen steps before his legs gave way beneath him. He used his sword to steady himself and after a few moments of swaying back and forth, he pushed himself up with a monumental effort and onto his feet again. He took two more steps and knew that he was in danger of collapsing again. He spotted a little rocky ledge only a pace or two to his left. _He would rest there, just for a few moments. He would regain his strength so that he could continue back to the camp. _He made it to the ledge, and perched himself on it, leaning back against the rock. _Just a few moments, that's what he needed – just a few moments to rest. _And that was the last thought that went through his mind before everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note**_

_**Apologies for the delay. I was near to posting this chapter, but then we had a family bereavement. Nice to get back to a little light relief (if you can call this chapter that). By the way, I'm using italics for three different things: emphasis (usually just one word), thoughts (usually one or more sentences), past events (usually a whole section). I trust it isn't too confusing.**_

Chapter 4

"My lady."

Leon stood at the door of the tent where the wounded were being attended, and waited for the queen's attention. Gwen turned from the patient she was tending and rose to her feet, her heart pounding furiously within her. She already knew that the battle had begun to go in their favour ever since the sorcerer had arrived, but she also knew that Arthur had gone missing. She knew that Leon was bringing news – news of the battle or news of Arthur – and it was certain to be either for good or for ill.

"The battle is won. The Saxons are in full retreat. They are making for the hills" Although Leon had an expression of relief as he gave the news, dread was still etched on Gwen's face as she listened to Leon continue, whilst the question that mattered the most to her heart still remained unanswered.

"I've dispatched two hundred men to drive our advantage home."

Gwen nodded but the dread was still there and, in a trembling voice that betrayed the fear within her, finally asked, "And Arthur?"

Leon paused, knowing his words would bring the queen no comfort: "We'll keep looking."

Gwen gave another almost imperceptible nod and somehow managed to say, "Thank you."

Leon looked on as she turned away and covered her face with one hand whilst she leant against a table for support with the other. It didn't take much for the knight to imagine the sort of turmoil his queen must be in, but as he watched in concern for her, she suddenly put a hand to her chest and drew in a deep breath to try to calm herself, and immediately began to throw herself into her task, rolling up her sleeves. But he heard the waver in her voice as she called out for fresh water, before he finally turned and left the tent with the same haste with which he had entered.

Gwen knelt and tried to focus on the patient in front of her. It was difficult for her to keep the tears at bay. She knew that if there was one person who should be easy to find on the battlefield, it was the king. She knew Arthur well - he would not be on the edge or at the back of the fighting, but would be where the battle was fiercest and at its most dangerous. Arthur's knights and soldiers knew one thing more than any other about their king: he would not ask them to do anything that he wasn't willing and ready to do himself. His leadership was one of example and service.

_Arthur would be there in the thick of it, the easiest to find. Unless, of course….._

She couldn't bring herself to consider the alternatives. One was that he was alone, lying wounded – or dead – somewhere on the battlefield, and that thought choked her up and tore her heart apart. But there was another thought that was even worse and that filled her with blind terror: that Morgana had him. She knew first-hand the horrors that Morgana could inflict upon her prisoners, and she knew all too well that Arthur's sister not only craved his death but also desired to inflict unimaginable suffering upon him first. But Gwen knew that if she was to be of any use to her husband's people – her people – she needed to eject all thoughts of Morgana and her worst nightmares from her head, and still keep hoping for the best.

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin, still wearing the cloak of an elderly figure, continued walking purposefully through the bodies of the dead that were strewn on the ground, looking this way and that, and all the time fearing the sight that he might see with each new sweep of his eyes. And then he stopped dead in his tracks – for there, only several paces away from him, was Arthur, lying motionless against a rock, his head tilted to one side and showing no signs of life. It was the sight that he'd dreaded more than any other. He threw down his staff and hurried over to his friend, picking his way over the dead bodies as he went, not even noticing that one of them was Mordred. His eyes were focused on one person and one person alone.

Merlin crouched down beside the bloodied and unmoving king, and lifted his hand to Arthur's face. The terrible moment had come for him to lay his fingers against his neck to feel for the rhythmic movement that would tell him whether Arthur's life blood still flowed in his body. Merlin's chest had never felt tighter, but he suddenly found he could breathe again as he felt the weak but steady beat within Arthur's veins. He found himself for a moment overcome with deep emotion, and he rubbed his hand gently against the face of his dearest friend. _He had to get Arthur out, he had to try to find healing for his wounded body – and that would not be within the camp. _And with that, Merlin took Arthur's right arm, wrapped it across his shoulders, and lifted the unconscious king and his sword up into his arms.

A single downwards glance as he stepped forward, bearing his precious burden, finally told him that Mordred had been slain. It didn't take for much for Merlin to piece together what must have happened, especially as he'd seen so much of it already in the vision he'd been shown. The fact that he'd found Arthur in the position he was, away from Mordred, must mean that he'd struck back and killed the druid knight himself – and although the sword had been hanging limply in Arthur's hand as he lay against the rock, Arthur had still been holding it.

The first light of a gloomy dawn began to break as Merlin picked his way through the fallen, and the sky itself seemed to be soaked with the blood of the battlefield. He looked down at the ugly wound on Arthur's left side, and knew that there would be an almost identical wound on his back. He could see within the gaping hole that had been made in Arthur's chainmail by Mordred's sword the garment below, stained dark with Arthur's blood. The weight of the body was not an insurmountable problem for Merlin – his true form that had been revealed to him in the crystal cave was one that no longer required incantations or potions to change its appearance – it was within his powers to simply change it at will. And age, or the semblance of it, would never decrease the strength of youth that would reside within his body.

Arthur didn't stir within his arms, and Merlin was alone with his own thoughts. It seemed to him, as he carried Arthur, as though the Disir and the power they represented were both – like Morgana - cold and cruel. _How could the power they wielded be so similar to his, and yet so utterly different? How could they look on Arthur and judge him as being deficient and worthy of death? They were supposed to be able see everything about him; they claimed to have always known him; and yet how could they see such a different king to the one that he knew? _

The words that Arthur had spoken to the Disir echoed in his ears: _"Have I not made Camelot a fairer and more just kingdom? Have I not rid it of the cruelty and injustices of the past?" _Merlin glanced back down at the one he knew so well, better than he knew himself. This was not now the strong and impetuous young king who had faced the Disir, but one whose body was weak and horribly wounded and a dead weight in his arms. _Here was a king who would lay down his life to protect his people – the men, women and children of his kingdom whom he wanted to be able to live in peace and safety, free from tyranny and evil. __This__ was the king he knew._

Merlin had watched as Arthur's reign truly began to flourish as soon as he'd been freed from the pernicious influence of Agravaine and from the shadow of the worst traits of his father. He'd watched as Arthur began to grow into the king that both he and Gwen had long seen within him. He'd chosen a servant girl as his queen and, in doing so, he not only raised her up – he also lowered himself. Gone were the clothes he'd worn when Merlin first knew him – the expensive jackets that marked him out as a prince. Instead, he'd chosen to dress more simply – not so dissimilar from how many of his people dressed – and he seldom wore a crown. Uther had always been instantly recognisable as a king – but it wasn't unusual for those just arriving in Camelot to find themselves talking to a young man, only to be told afterwards that they'd been speaking to King Arthur. He took a genuine interest in the ordinary people of his kingdom, and Merlin had watched him become a just and noble ruler, who sought the good of his people before his own comfort or safety, and who worked tirelessly to lift the burden of poverty that so often weighed the people down. He'd lowered taxes, and - on that subject - been willing to listen to those with whom he disagreed…..

~~~ O ~~~

"_You know, you could stay in Camelot and become a knight..." Arthur had the hint of a mischievous grin on his face as he continued. "_Sir Tristan_ has a certain ring to it." _

_The experienced smuggler replied, "What, and have to obey all those rules?" but he had a twinkle in his eye as he said it. The response made Arthur glad, not because his offer was being refused, but because it was the first sign of humour that he'd seen in Tristan since the death of Isolde. _

_A wry smile came to Arthur's face: "And speaking of rules -" He paused and then offered another invitation, " - come and dine with the queen and me tonight before you leave." Arthur had become very fond of referring to Gwen as 'the queen' or 'my wife' in the days since they'd wed, and took every opportunity to do so. Merlin, who was - as ever - at Arthur's side, smiled to himself: it was the fourth time that day he'd heard him call Gwen that, and it wasn't even lunchtime. But Arthur, in his new happiness as a married man, was not oblivious to the pain of others, and even as he said the words, he felt more than a twinge of sadness within. He'd known himself what it was to lose the love of one's life, but he'd been fortunate to have been given Guinevere back. He knew a little of the heartbreak and sense of loss that Tristan would be going through._

_Arthur explained the reason for his invitation: "I hope that we can consider each other as friends now, and I'd like in some small way to thank you for the help you were in liberating Camelot… and I would also like you to tell me – as a friend – your views on the levies that we put on trade." _

_Tristan raised an eyebrow: "I'm not sure you'll like what I have to say!"_

"_Humour me! And besides, the palace kitchens have just managed to replenish their stores, and Merlin has occasionally been known to throw together a half-decent meal and he hasn't managed to poison me or my wife… yet!"_

_And so it was the later that day, Tristan sat down in Camelot's dining hall with the king and queen of Camelot, with Merlin serving his latest culinary creation to all three of them. After having seen something of the way that Arthur served his people, Tristan felt slightly less inclined to criticise the king's taxes, but as the wine flowed after what was, by Merlin's usual standards, an excellent meal, Tristan's tongue spoke more freely, and in an animated, but good natured discussion, they covered issues of trade and taxes and travel and Arthur began to see something of a different perspective. He did, however, let out a small, slightly inebriated snort when Tristan spoke of the travails of _"honest, hard-working citizens." _ Arthur quickly composed himself, and said with a wry smile, "It wasn't the hard-work that I was taking issue with!" And Tristan saw the funny side of it, and winked at the queen…_

~~~ O ~~~

The memory of the encounter would, under normal circumstance, have brought a smile to Merlin's face, but if anything, the contrast between the happiness of those times and the nightmare in which he now found himself plunged Merlin deeper into despair. _Arthur was a good king! He didn't deserve this! _Merlin thought about the many times he'd gone with Arthur on trips out into the kingdom, including its outlying areas, just because Arthur wanted to let his people know that they were not forgotten. He'd not only wanted to know his people, but also to know the challenges they faced, and he'd particularly wanted to know what was happening in his kingdom and to resolve the local disputes that were so often a blight on the land. But Arthur couldn't cover the whole kingdom or spend all his time riding out, and so often dispatched the knights he trusted to dispense justice on his behalf, with the understanding that any issues that proved too difficult to solve could be brought back to the king. Merlin knew that the justice that he'd brought throughout the land was unparalleled in the five kingdoms, and it was hardly surprising that it had been spoken of beyond the borders of Camelot.

As Merlin carried Arthur further away from the battlefield where Arthur had once more opposed the threat of tyranny, another memory came to Merlin's mind of a time when the help of Arthur Pendragon had been sought, but by those outside his kingdom…

~~~ O ~~~

_Gwendolyn may have had a name that was similar to that of the queen, but that was where any similarity ended. Where Guinevere was petite, Gwendolyn's frame was what was often described as "buxom" and whereas the queen's beauty could be described as rare, Gwendolyn's was more likely to be referred to as scarce. But what she may have lacked in looks she more than made up for in force of personality._

"…_. And do you know what those bandits did?" Arthur opened his mouth to offer a suggestion, but immediately realised that it was futile to attempt to interrupt such a formidable character in mid-flow._

"_They took every last sack of grain that we had stored for next year's planting. EVERY LAST SACK! I would have thrown myself under their horses to stop their escape if I'd thought it would have done any good."_

_Percival, who was standing nearby, thought to himself that she may have stood some chance of achieving a reasonable level of success in doing that very thing, but quickly banished the thought as being unworthy of a knight of Camelot._

_Gwendolyn's manner suddenly softened however. "It has taken years, your majesty, to lift our small town from poverty. I may be of noble birth, but the family I come from has no wealth of its own and it is beyond our means to employ either soldiers or guards. We have been left impoverished and are at the mercy of the bandits. We face starvation if we cannot find help."_

_It was not an unfamiliar story – Arthur remembered the time that Hunith had come from Ealdor to petition his father over a similar issue. He'd said then that he wished that Camelot was able to help people, regardless of how far away they lived. _

_Arthur could see the desperation in the woman's face. "You say you are from beyond Camelot?"_

"_Yes, my lord – we are from the Vale of Loramir."_

"_Alined's country?"_

"_Yes, sire."_

"_And he will not help you then?" _

_The mention of Alined seemed to ignite her passion once again. "That good for nothing schemer?! He sits all day on his backside on his throne and doesn't lift a finger – " _

_She broke off her loud tirade as she suddenly remembered in whose presence she was and tempered her fiery tone and her response. " – no, my lord. I don't believe he cares too much what happens beyond what he can immediately see."_

_Arthur knew Alined and was not surprised. "But that region used to belong to Caerleon's kingdom – have you sought help from Queen Annis?"_

_Gwendolyn paused before replying. "I have no desire to seek the help of those who have made my life hard."_

_Arthur remained silent, allowing her to continue her story and her explanation. "My father fought as a knight for Caerleon but died in battle, leaving my mother penniless. She went to the king for help, but he turned her away."_

_Merlin looked on in sympathy. He could believe her – it wasn't the first time that he'd heard a story about Caerleon's king like hers._

_It always saddened Arthur to hear of stories of rulers abusing their power and neglecting their duty to care for their people. "And you were left with no help?"_

"_My mother died shortly after. I have one brother, but he abandoned me. I've not seen him for several years – not that he would be any help since he's a good for nothing womaniser and a drunkard."_

"_Your plight is a sorry one – but I will help – "_

_But as Arthur went on to describe how he intended to do that, Merlin suddenly realised with a jolt that the story was not a __similar__ one to the one he'd heard before: it was identical. And he shot an incredulous glance over to Gwaine. And what he saw was Gwaine with his head down, staring at the floor, trying his best not to show his face. He'd once described his sister as _"an evil old toad." _Whilst his use of the word 'old' was relative, and 'toad' was harsh, Merlin sensed that the word 'evil' had more to do with a certain difference of sibling perspective that any real moral deficiency on her part. Merlin suddenly snapped back into the present as he heard Arthur finishing his offer of assistance._

"_- and I will dispatch a company of soldiers with two of my best knights – Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine."_

_And as he finished his sentence, he nodded his head in the direction of the two knights to indicate their identity to Gwendolyn._

_There was a pregnant pause as Gwendolyn's stare changed from one of interest to incredulity. "Gwaine? Is that you?"_

_And with that, the knight finally had to show his face with a degree of reluctance that was only matched by the degree of ire that erupted within his sister. The court of Camelot had never been witness to a tirade of the sort that followed, and Gwendolyn once again forgot momentarily the company she was in as she enumerated her brother's inadequacies in a very animated manner. Arthur and Guinevere both looked on, open-mouthed, at the exchange that ensued, and Arthur realised fairly quickly that intervention was going to be required._

" – _AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT IDIOT SAW FIT TO MAKE __YOU__ A KNIGHT, BUT YOU'LL NEVER – "_

"_My lady…. MY LADY!"_

_Arthur's voice finally seeped into the irate sister's consciousness, and she suddenly broke off, even though the furious expression persisted on her face. "Whatever your brother has been in the past, he is a changed man – " Arthur cast a quick look in Gwaine's direction and added with a wry smile: "- mostly."_

_Arthur finally managed to calm the situation, and didn't change either of his decisions to help or to send Gwaine, although the latter protested to his king on the way out of the court-room._

"_You can't do this to me, Arthur!"_

"_It'll be good for you." And after a moment he added with an impish smile as he turned to go, "I once said you were a common man with a noble heart. I'm beginning to wonder if I got that the wrong way round…"_

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin glanced down at the unconscious Arthur again – and the contrast between that remembered smile and the reality of the man in his arms almost broke his heart. The face of the one he was carrying was pale, caked with the blood and dirt of battle, and etched with pain. Merlin wondered if he would ever see another smile on Arthur's face – that carefree smile that would light up his whole face and often the whole room with it – or, at least, that was how it had always felt to Merlin.

"_Have I not made Camelot a fairer and more just kingdom? Have I not rid it of the cruelty and injustices of the past?"_

And Merlin thought to himself, _Yes, Arthur, you have_.

But the condemnation that had been handed down to him by the Disir was not because of any injustices or his lack of care for his people – it was because of his rejection of magic. Merlin knew that – and in that moment he also knew something else: he had to reveal to Arthur who he really was. Arthur had only ever rejected magic out of ignorance, and because he'd only seen it used for evil. And despite the prejudice he'd inherited from his father, more than once he'd been willing to try magic – to see his mother, to heal his father, to release Gwen from the enchantment. He'd even brought reconciliation with the druids and pledged to let them live out their lives in peace. _How could they condemn him and treat him with an unfairness that he'd never shown to others? And what if he were to change his view of magic, even now..? The Disir had said he wouldn't be given another chance, but he had to believe that Arthur's fate could be changed. He would tell Arthur before it was too late, he would help him to see that magic could be good. And if he couldn't change Arthur's fate… _

Merlin simply couldn't bear the thought of Arthur dying with an immense falsehood remaining between them.

_**Author's note**_

_**Am really not sure whether a bit of humour in this chapter grates too much with the rest of it. I was going to tone down the Gwendolyn bit even more than I have, but decided in the end to leave it. Let me know what you think. And apologies in advance that it will probably be a while before I'm able to post again. But rest assured that it's all pretty much written already in note form, so it's just a matter of time. And on the upside, the longer the delays, the more extra bits get added.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note**_

_**Huge apologies for the delay – I've been bogged down in tax forms and the like for the last month! Hopefully updates should be more regular now. Well, we're moving towards the reveal, but with some more flashbacks and fill-ins. And I'll just point out at this stage that trying to piece together the timings of the days and background events so that they are consistent with what is shown in the episodes (and the lighting thereof) has been a challenge, to put it mildly – especially trying to work out how and when Gaius manages to catch up with Merlin (and how some horses suddenly appear – as if by magic! – and how he figures out without an X-ray machine that Arthur has a fragment of sword in him!). I hope that what I've come up with is consistent with (and makes more sense of?) the scenes as they occur in the episode. **_

Chapter 5

It took every ounce of strength and will-power that Gwen possessed to hold back the tears – even as she was nodding in agreement with Leon's words. _Yes, of course, she understood – she understood the need now that the battle had been won and the advantage driven home to move the injured back to Camelot as quickly as possible; she understood that there was nothing more for her to do at Camlann; she understood that as queen she needed to be back among her people, taking charge once again for their sake. _But every fibre of her being rebelled against what her rational mind was accepting as the right thing to do, because to leave Camlann meant leaving Arthur behind. Gwen knew he was out there somewhere, and all that her heart wanted to do was to be out there searching for her love, for the man who held her heart in his. To Gwen, returning to Camelot felt like abandoning Arthur in his hour of need. Both she and Leon had accepted the fact that something must have happened to Arthur – even if neither of them verbalised that thought or knew what that _something_ was. In fact, it was the not knowing that made the _something_ even more terrifying, as if it was some hideous invisible beast to which Arthur had fallen prey.

"The horses are ready, my lady. You should depart for Camelot immediately. I will arrange for everything in your tent to be packed and sent on after you."

Gwen nodded to Leon once again, but this time – despite her best efforts – a single, solitary tear slid silently down her cheek. The burly knight let out a deep sigh of compassion, and putting aside all etiquette, laid a hand gently on the queen's arm. She may be queen, but she was still also a dear friend to Leon. Once he had been the noble and she the lowly servant, but even then there had always been an openness and an affability between them which had grown out of a lifetime of familiarity. And when the roles were reversed, that ease between them had continued, especially as it was the same ease that Arthur and Leon (as his lieutenant) had always shared. Although Leon's calm exterior and rock-like dependability offered strength to his queen at that moment, there was nevertheless a deeply troubled look in his eyes. Arthur was, after all, his comrade and companion as well as his captain, and they had known each other since as long as he could remember. The fact was that there was a feeling of guilt deep down in the knight's heart – he had sworn, as a knight, not only loyalty to Arthur but also to do everything in his power to protect him, and yet somehow in the battle they had become separated, and he had failed to defend his king from whatever ill had befallen him.

"The patrols will not stop looking until they've found him, my lady."

Gwen nodded for a third time, and somehow found her voice just enough to say a quiet "Thank you." If there was one thing that Arthur had taught her more than anything else, it was that wearing the crown meant that one's duty to serve the people was always the highest call on one's life – and that sometimes meant putting aside personal safety or feelings for the sake of that service. But even as Gwen went to mount her horse and leave for home, being queen did not stop her heart from breaking inside, as she wondered if Camlann would forever be the last place that she had seen Arthur.

~~~ O ~~~

Gaius had slipped away from the camp as soon as his role of physician allowed him. He had not told anyone he was going – he did not want to. It had been a while since Merlin in his elderly form had stood silhouetted against the darkened, blood-red sky, and had then disappeared from view. Gaius had heard that Arthur had gone missing, and when Merlin didn't re-emerge in either of his forms, Gaius began to feel deeply uneasy – especially as he had been more willing than Merlin to accept what he saw as the inevitability of what the prophecies had foretold. Gaius could only hope that the fact that neither king nor servant were anywhere to be found meant that they were together – somewhere.

Gaius began to pick his way across the battle-field, following – unbeknown to him – almost exactly the same path Merlin had walked only a short time earlier and, like him, looking at each fallen knight and fearing that he would find Arthur's lifeless face staring back up at his. A large part of the unease that Gaius felt was for the young warlock who had become almost a son to him. He knew how Merlin's life was so intimately bound up with Arthur's, and feared what would happen to him if Arthur had indeed fallen in battle. But his fears were not exclusively for Merlin – for although his affections were most often expressed towards Merlin, Gaius did nevertheless have a deep love and affection for the other young man in his life, who just happened to be the king. Gaius had helped bring Arthur into the world all those years earlier, and had not only been Uther's physician but also Arthur's as he had grown up. And the young prince had kept him busy….

~~~ O ~~~

"_It's Arthur"_

_It was the fourth time in as many weeks that Gaius had heard those words – words which would then always be hastily qualified by the panic-stricken courtier or knight who just happened to have been given the responsibility that day for (in theory) looking after the young prince: _

"_He's injured himself"_

"_He's gone missing – I can't find him anywhere!"_

"_He's knocked himself out"_

_It was surprising just how much trouble a nine year old could get himself into, although it didn't help not having a mother and having a father whose days were almost entirely taken up with the business of the court and running a kingdom._

_Gaius sighed: "What is it this time?"_

"_I think he might have broken his arm."_

_The terror on the face of the knight was, Gaius reflected, probably more to do with what the king would do when he found out, than any fear for the life of the prince. As Gaius began to collect up some bandages, splints and tinctures, he asked the obvious question, "Where is he now?"_

_The knight looked even more guilty (if that were possible): "On the tournament field."_

_Gaius stopped momentarily and sighed once again. "I know I'm going to regret asking this question, but __what__ was Prince Arthur doing down on the tournament field?"_

"_He wanted to have a go at jousting…"_

"_JOUSTING! He hasn't even reached his tenth birthday!"_

_The fact that Gaius was, in later life, so good at expressing exasperation with Merlin was, in part, due the practice that he'd had over the many years of Arthur's childhood._

_On the way down to the field, the knight described how Arthur had insisted on being allowed to take part in a tilt. This had (unbeknown to the knight) been as a result of a wager that the young prince had entered into with the king's young ward, who had recently come to live in Camelot. Arthur had announced (with the sort of certainty that only a nine year old who knows he's a prince can have) that jousting wasn't very difficult and he would of course be able to do it quite easily as soon as he was given the opportunity. Morgana casting doubt on his words only seemed to spur him on, and as some of the knights had found to their cost before, standing up to the nine year old prince (who was used to getting his own way) when he was demanding something was not a challenge for the faint-hearted. The elderly senior groom who also doubled as the fount of all wisdom and knowledge on the subject of jousting – having seen so many tournaments in his lifetime – had shaken his head and sighed, and although he didn't say it out loud, had thought to himself that there were probably some lessons that were best learned the hard way._

_And so it was that one of the youngest trainee knights found himself facing in the tilt the even younger Arthur Pendragon. Neither were wearing any armour aside from chainmail, which had nothing to do with Arthur's bravado, and everything to do with the fact that none of the jousting armour came remotely close to being small enough for him. Arthur had therefore announced that in order for the contest to be fair, neither of them should wear the normal solid breastplate and helmet that gave protection in jousting. This, of course, only increased the terror of the young knight, who feared that all his cherished ambitions of being a knight of Camelot would be dashed if he so much as scratched the young prince. In fact, he was hastily considering whether "accidentally" dropping his lance or "accidentally" falling from his horse would be most believable. In the event, he needn't have worried._

_The young Arthur, when he was handed the lance, __found that the weight of even the smaller, lighter practice lance was such that he could barely hold it, and when combined with motion of horse, it didn't take long for the long pole to unbalance him completely_. Arthur, however, was determined not to let go of it (especially as Morgana was standing watching, with her arms firmly folded) and had wrapped his arms around it so tightly that he ended up being pulled off the horse as the heavy jousting lance followed its inexorable trajectory towards the ground. He was still almost hugging the lance as both he and it hit the dirt.

_When Gaius finally reached the field, Arthur was sitting up against the wooden barriers around the field, looking white as a sheet, although it was hard for Gaius to decide which out of the Arthur and the knight who'd fetched him looked the paler. It only took one look at the strange angle of the prince's arm to confirm the suspected diagnosis. Gaius decided that it was better to bind the arm there and then, than to inflict on him the extra pain of a long walk back to his chambers. After giving Arthur the customary, "You'll live", and then adding, "At least it's your left arm," he gave him a small, short rod to bite down on, as he gently manipulated the broken bones into the correct alignment and bound the arm tightly between solid wooden splints. Although several stifled cries of pain had come through Arthur's clenched teeth, the nine year old had not shed a single tear – although this was probably at least in part due to the presence of the young Morgana who, although concerned for Arthur, also had something approaching an "I told you so" expression upon her face._

_In fact, Arthur seemed to come closest to tears when Gaius informed him that for the next six weeks he was not to ride a horse or swing either a sword or a mace or be seen anywhere near the tournament field. The expression on the prince's face showed that to him, these restrictions made it seem as if his world had just come to an end. Gaius sighed again at the sight of such a forlorn look on Arthur's face, and relented slightly. "I'm sure that if you had something suitable to lean it on, you could still continue with some crossbow practice." Arthur's look seemed to brighten slightly and, although he didn't know it at that point, six weeks with nothing much to do (studies excluded) other than fire his crossbow (and throw knives) at targets was about to give him the eye that would in time make him the finest hunter and the deadliest marksman that Camelot had ever known. And so tears were averted._

_In fact Gaius only once saw Arthur cry as he was growing up, and it was just under seven years later, shortly after Arthur's sixteenth birthday. A camp occupied by those who practised magic had been discovered, and Uther directed that a raid on the camp should be made – and gave Arthur his first command. When Gaius gently questioned the king as to whether his son was ready for it, Uther replied that Arthur was an excellent fighter and would soon be without equal. Gaius pointed out, as delicately as he could, that he was in no doubt about Arthur's skill as a swordsman, but that leading a party of much older men - many of whom were hardened soldiers - required a wisdom and inner resolve that might be beyond the prince at his young age. The king brushed any concerns aside, however, and so Arthur rode out at the head of two dozen men, trying not to make it obvious that he was desperate to prove himself to both his father and his men._

_When the patrol returned several hours later, Uther was there to greet them, and looked suitably delighted when his quick headcount revealed that not one single Camelot soldier had been lost. As soon as Arthur dismounted from his horse, the king was at his side. "I trust that all those who practice magic were brought to justice?" – his way of asking whether they had all been killed. Arthur didn't meet his father's eyes, but just gave a curt, "Yes, father" which then resulted in Uther clapping his son on the back and saying, "I knew you would do me proud." But there was something about Arthur's expression that told Gaius that there was something that wasn't being said – and a small wound on the prince's arm gave him the opportunity he needed._

_Gaius fixed the sixteen year old with his gaze and pointed to his arm: "You seem to have sustained an injury, sire. You should come with me so that I can take a look at it."_

_Arthur shook his head and looked at the ground, "It's nothing. I'll be fine."_

"_Nevertheless, serious infections can arise from the smallest of cuts." Gaius then played his trump card by appealing to the king. "Your majesty, I really do think I ought to examine Arthur's wound."_

"_You're right. Arthur – you must go with Gaius."_

_And so Arthur had reluctantly followed the physician back to the privacy of the Gaius's chambers._

_Arthur sat quietly whilst Gaius rolled back the layers on his arm, and washed the wound. The prince still wouldn't lift his eyes, but it didn't take much for Gaius to see the haunted look in them. He wisely didn't ask Arthur how it went, but just said gently as he wound a bandage around his arm, "If you want to talk about it…" Arthur hurriedly looked away as he shook his head, and Gaius watched as the young prince wiped the sleeve of his unbandaged arm across his face not once but twice, and he heard the catch in Arthur's uneven breathing. Whatever had happened on the raid had clearly deeply affected him, and whatever it was, he was not ready to either describe it or re-live it. So Gaius stood there silently for several moments as Arthur tried to compose himself, before finally turning back to Gaius, but keeping his head firmly down._

_Gaius tied the bandage off. "There, I think you'll live." He'd said the familiar phrase in an attempt to lighten the mood, but there was something about the words that made Arthur suddenly get up and leave with as much haste as he could muster and without another word._

_Gaius kept a careful watch on Arthur over the next few days, and observed the dark rings that began to form under the young prince's eyes. Whatever had gone on, it wasn't difficult for Gaius to see that it was preventing him from sleeping or giving him nightmares – or both. Gaius searched him out one evening, and pressed a small bottle into his hand. "I just wanted to make doubly sure that the wound doesn't get infected, and this should help with any pain. Take it just before you go to sleep. I'll bring you another one tomorrow." There was a small amount of truth in his words, because the sleeping draught would obviously have the effect of stopping the prince feeling any pain. And although Arthur would never have admitted it to anyone, the fact was that every night, when he did finally manage to drop off to sleep, his dreams were full of the screams of women and children, and in every dream, Arthur would find himself bound and unable to speak or move to prevent the slaughter of the innocents that was happening around him – and for which he was ultimately responsible as the leader of the patrol. And over and over again, Arthur saw the face of a small druid boy with straight brown hair, who every time screamed out to Arthur to help him, and every time Arthur watched helplessly as the boy was dragged away and out of his sight by the soldiers supposedly under his command but who chose to ignore the inexperienced prince's orders, and Arthur had to listen as the boy's screams intensified and then suddenly stopped. _

_It was only many years later that Merlin filled in the missing pieces of what had happened when he returned from a trip back to the site of the slaughter with Arthur one night. Merlin told Gaius of the act of deep contrition that a tearful Arthur had made on his knees to the druid boy's spirit controlling Elyan – and how he had finally been absolved of the awful guilt that he had carried for so many years – and Gaius had sighed deeply. There may have been times as Arthur was growing up when the behaviour of the brash, arrogant young prince had not met with the approval of the court physician, but he had watched as the headstrong and self-centred youngster had grown into a wise and compassionate king. But even in the prince's worst moments, there was never a time when Arthur had not been loved by Gaius._

~~~ O ~~~

With anxious thoughts of both Arthur and Merlin filling his mind, Gaius continued to pick his way through the carnage and devastation of the battle-field. But the person that caught his attention first was neither of these two young men – but another. Gaius knelt down beside Mordred's unmoving form – one look was enough to tell him that the druid knight had already been dead for a while. Gaius looked around him and saw no sign of Arthur, and wondered what it meant. _Had Mordred killed or injured Arthur before he himself was killed? _A quick glance at the druid's wound told him that it had been a sword rather than Merlin's magic that had brought about the druid's demise – and Gaius suspected it had been Arthur's handiwork. But he stared with a deep sense of misgiving at the blood that stained the sword that was still in Mordred's hand – and wondered whose it was. But before he rose to his feet again, there was something else that caught Gaius's careful eye – it was the uneven edge of the sword's tip, and a closer examination revealed that there was a fragment missing from it. The more that Gaius looked at the sword, the more he became convinced that there was magic at work in the blade. _Morgana knew the old religion better than anyone, and she would have known the power of a sword that was forged in the dragon's breath – and she had a dragon. Such a sword would have made Mordred almost invincible – unless, of course, he was to face another such sword._ _ Had some dark magic at work in the sword itself caused a lethal shard to embed itself in its last victim, so that even if the stroke of the sword didn't kill outright, the splinter of metal would be a death sentence on the victim? _

Gaius shuddered, and knew that he needed – more than ever – to find the king and to find Merlin. But as it turned out, that need was immediately met, for as Gaius pulled himself wearily to his feet, his eyes caught sight of a small movement, far away on the edge of the battlefield, and as Gaius screwed up his aged eyes, he just about managed to make out the back of Merlin's elderly form, and he could tell from the way that Merlin was walking that he was carrying a heavy burden.

~~~ O ~~~

As soon as Merlin found a secluded and safe spot in a wood on the nearby hills, he laid Arthur gently down on the ground, and as he did so, he effortlessly transformed back into his younger form, and the magic he was now capable of also transformed his sorcerer's clothes into his more familiar scruffy attire. He laid his hand on Arthur's forehead and said his name, but received no response in return. Merlin moved his hand to the ugly wound on Arthur's front, and began to incant every healing spell that he could think of, but nothing seemed to make any difference. _He had healed Arthur before, so why not now? Why did this wound stubbornly refuse to yield to each and every form of magic that he used on it? _Merlin's desperation seemed to grow with every ineffectual flash of gold from his eyes. And as he had done on previous occasions when his magic had similarly failed him, he whispered again and again, "Come on, Arthur… Arthur – come on!" And when every entreaty fell on deaf ears, Merlin pleaded with the unconscious young king: "I need you to get better!"

But before his desperation reduced him to tears, Merlin suddenly heard a twig break not too far behind him, and swung round ready to propel any assailant back with magic - only to find himself almost weeping with relief as his elderly mentor hurried towards him. Merlin rose, and wrapped his arms round Gaius, and blurted out in a chocked and uneven voice, "It's all my fault…" and as they pulled apart again, Merlin pleaded again, but this time with Gaius: "You've got to help him! My magic doesn't make any difference."

Gaius knelt down by Arthur's side, felt his pulse and his forehead, before gently examining the wound as best he could with the limitations that Arthur's chainmail imposed. Merlin heard Gaius draw in his breath sharply at the severity of the injury.

"The bleeding won't stop," was all Merlin could say.

"I might be able to do something about that at least." Gaius rose to his feet. "His heartbeat is still reasonably strong and steady – he will come round, I'm sure of it, and I will examine him more fully then." The physician decided, however, that until he could ascertain if the fragment of sword had entered Arthur, there was little point in adding to Merlin's anguish by telling him of that possibility.

"What are we going to do, Gaius?" Everything about Merlin's tone and expression spoke of deep pain and desperation.

"Whatever we do, we're going to need some horses. I've seen some not too far away – I suspect their riders fell in battle and won't be returning for them. "

"I can't leave him Gaius…"

Gaius sighed deeply. "I know. You stay with him then – I'll fetch the horses. I'll be back as soon as I can"

But as the older man turned to go, Merlin suddenly blurted out: "I'm going to tell him – I've got to!"

Gaius stopped, and turned to look back at Merlin and saw the worry etched on his face. There were many possibilities that went through Gaius's head, as he tried to think of words to reassure Merlin that it would be alright – but Gaius knew that giving empty reassurance was unfair. So in the end he simply nodded and, as he turned to go, added "Good Luck."

_**Author's note**_

_**I promise, the reveal is the very next thing. (And, as ever, any reviews and comments are always welcome)**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's notes**_

_**Sorry for the delay in posting this – the last week has been a week like no other.**_

_**This chapter was going to be finish at a later point in the story, but I thought it was better at this stage to post what I've written. I'm afraid that there isn't too much different in this to the actual episode – although this is, of course, the epicentre of the whole programme. There will be more new material including a flashback that I'm looking forward to writing in the next chapter.**_

Chapter 6

The light of day had not penetrated yet into the small clearing where Merlin had laid Arthur. The small amount of warmth coming from the fire that Merlin had lit was about the only comfort in the dim surroundings. Merlin had covered a log with a blanket and had rested Arthur's head on it, and Merlin – with his back to Arthur - kept a look-out whilst he waited for Arthur to regain consciousness. In the event, he only had to wait a few minutes after Gaius had left.

Arthur came to with a start – he lay there for a moment, and the pain in his side brought the memories of the battle and what had happened flooding back. But even before he had fully taken in his surroundings, he was aware that he was no longer where he had been when he had blacked out. And when his eyes moved just a few degrees lower, he saw the back of the person whose presence raised more questions than it answered.

"Merlin…," and there was a note of surprise in Arthur's voice.

Merlin was on his feet in an instant, and at Arthur's side in no more than a couple of seconds. "How are you feeling?"

Arthur began trying to move himself, and immediately wished he hadn't as the same blinding pain he'd felt earlier filled his whole body. The two men instinctively reached out for each other, and Arthur's groans of pain and obvious distress provided Merlin with the answer to his question. As Arthur gripped Merlin's shoulder tightly, Merlin wrapped one hand around Arthur's wrist whilst he gently pushed him down with the other: "Lie back. Lie back"

But even Arthur's acute pain did not distract him from the one question that had almost constantly been on his mind ever since they'd left Camelot, and through his agony he asked in an uneven voice, "Where… where have you been?"

Merlin tightened his grasp on his friend's wrist: "It doesn't matter now."

But instead of questioning him further, Arthur's face contorted in pain again and he gasped: "My… my side"

Merlin looked again at the gaping hole in Arthur's chainmail. "You _are_ bleeding."

The king cast a quick glance in the direction of the wound, and with the same ease with which he would have joked with Merlin over some minor misfortune, he quipped as he lay back again, "That's alright. I thought I was dying."

Merlin had for years thought about this moment, and what he would say to Arthur. But in the event, he found there was only one way that he could think of to start. "I'm sorry."

Arthur's breathing was rapid and laboured, and all he could do was shake his head and look away again, as if it would have taken too much effort to give a verbal brush off to Merlin's comment.

As Merlin continued, his gaze didn't leave the face of his friend, which still had on it the grime of battle as well as an expression of pain: "I thought I'd defied the prophecy."

The words made no sense to Arthur and he turned back to face Merlin, as if that would somehow bring some clarity to what he'd said.

"I thought I was in time."

But Arthur's perplexity only grew, and he rolled his eyes as he spoke: "What are you talking about?"

But as Merlin began to speak again, Arthur turned back to look at him – and could see that whatever it was that Merlin was talking about, it was causing him great distress.

"I'd defeated the Saxons… the dragon, and yet… and yet I knew it was Mordred that I must stop."

Arthur had once said to Merlin that he often couldn't tell whether he was being wise or simply a prating fool, and a little smile came to his face at what clearly had to be another moment of Merlin displaying the idiocy that endeared him to Arthur. In a much weaker and softer voice than Arthur would have usually used to point out the obvious to Merlin, he corrected his servant, "The person who defeated them was the sorcerer," and gently squeezed Merlin's shoulder, the smile still on his face.

But Merlin wasn't smiling, and to Arthur's bewilderment, his servant began to lose his composure, and eventually and with great difficulty said just three words between sobs: "It was me."

Arthur studied the grief-stricken face of his friend, and couldn't for the life of him even begin to figure out either why Merlin was so upset or why he would say something that was quite clearly absurd, especially whilst he himself was lying there dying: "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin."

But as neither Merlin's assertion nor his anguish changed, Arthur's bewilderment suddenly turned into a deep sense of unease: "This is stupid. Why… why would you say that?" And Arthur's disquiet and sense of apprehension only grew as Merlin tightened his grip on his wrist, his sobbing becoming more acute.

"I'm a….." but Merlin couldn't finish his words, and let out another sob instead.

And Arthur's unease suddenly turned into fear as his trust in the servant who had always been totally and utterly dependable and loyal began to be shaken.

Merlin finally managed to find enough breath between sobs to be able to utter the words he'd been trying to get out: "I'm a sorcerer." But his eyes couldn't meet those of Arthur, which suddenly widened at the words of his friend. Arthur continued to stare at Merlin, unable to marry together the words that had been spoken and the person that he knew so well. And Merlin knew that he needed to spell it out. "I have magic."

Over the years Merlin had played out, over and over again in his mind, Arthur's possible reactions to those three words. He'd imagined anger or hatred, but through his tears Merlin could see that Arthur simply couldn't take in or believe what he was telling him. But this was who he truly was – this was the person he'd been hiding from his friend for so long – and Arthur needed to know before it was too late that he had magic and what it was for: "And I use it for you, Arthur" and he repeated the words with another snatched breath: " – only for you."

But Arthur immediately cut in on him, and Merlin could see how troubled he was and the anguish in his voice and in his eyes. "You are NOT a sorcerer – I would know!" Arthur threw the words out as a defence against an idea that was so alien, so disturbing, that it threatened to bring the world that was so familiar to him crashing down around him.

Merlin knew that the only way he could get Arthur to accept what he was saying was to prove it to him. He had embarked upon a path from which there was no return, and Merlin's anguish was only increased when he saw the fear that was beginning to show on the face of the already weakened Arthur. Merlin knew that had he been revealing the truth about his magic to Arthur at any other time, it would have been different. Arthur would have had the strength and support of others to deal with it. But here he was – debilitated, utterly vulnerable and alone – and desperately needing to know that he had the help of his closest friend and companion. There was absolutely nothing that made this a good time to tell Arthur – save the single, awful truth that the king was dying.

Once again Merlin spoke in snatches of breath: "Look – here…." Merlin turned his face away from Arthur and towards the small fire, the flames of which were still burning brightly. Arthur followed Merlin's movements and watched as his servant held out his arm towards the flames.

"Upastige draca"

And Arthur watched as tiny sparks broke away from the fire and formed themselves into the unmistakable shape and movements of a dragon in flight. As the embers dispersed into the air, Merlin turned back to Arthur, his hand still resting on his armour. But Arthur's eyes lingered on the fire. And when he finally tore his eyes away from the flames, he didn't bring them back to Merlin, but instead turned his head away from him, letting out as he did so a small sound from the depths of his being. It was the sound of a pain that went far deeper than that caused by Mordred's sword.

Another grunt of pain escaped from him, as he twisted back to look at Merlin - and Merlin had never seen an expression on Arthur's face like the one he saw at that moment. He wasn't sure if it was a look of fear, revulsion or deep anguish – or all three mixed up together. But whatever was going on in Arthur's heart and mind, one thing was rapidly becoming clear to Merlin – Arthur didn't want him anywhere near him. "Leave me."

Merlin had known that it would be difficult for Arthur, but it was his turn now to stare in disbelief, for Arthur was rejecting him totally and utterly. In desperation he started to appeal to his friend: "Arthur…."

But all he got was another, immediate rebuttal: "Just… You heard."

And Merlin watched as Arthur tried, even in his great pain, to back away from him, and when he found he couldn't move, he held his arm up and tried to turn away, as if he were trying to shield himself from Merlin. And both men's hearts broke.

~~~ O ~~~

A third person picked their way across the battlefield, in the footsteps of Merlin and Gaius. The black – now tattered – hem of Morgana's dress swept over victim after victim as she sought the faces of two different people among the dead. The first was that of her half-brother – she longed more than anything else to find his corpse among the slain. And his death wouldn't be enough for her – his body would become her trophy, to be defiled rather than honoured in death. But it was not Arthur lifeless form that she found – it was that of the other man she was seeking: Mordred. Her scream of both anger and anguish echoed off the unyielding rock-faces that lined the battlefield of Camlann – and she was kneeling at his side in moments. As she cradled in her arms the body of the young man who had once felt like a son to her, she rocked back and forth, grief and vengeance mingling and churning within her heart. She was already vowing revenge on whoever had felled Mordred – and she had a fair idea of who that was. The clinical, well-positioned and deadly blow that had killed him had her brother written all over it. She wanted to know what had happened, and knew that there was something that could at least give her part of the answer.

Morgana took the sword forged in the dragon's breath from the hand of the fallen druid. She incanted words as she held the hilt in her hand, and her eyes flashed gold before she closed them. The magic allowed her to see how the sword had been used since Mordred had first grasped hold of it. She watched as scenes flashed through her mind: a knight of Camelot falling under Mordred's blow, then a soldier, another soldier, and so the faces continued to come. Arthur had trained him well, and with the enchanted sword, his blade time after time found its mark. And then the scenes began to slow and Morgana knew that she was coming to the end of the litany of those vanquished by the sword. And then finally she saw the face that made her heart beat faster – she watched as the sword was plunged into Arthur's body and then withdrawn. And the look of shock and pain on the king's face filled her with a giddying delight – and that was the last secret that the sword had to yield.

Her eyes opened and she looked around her, but she didn't see the king. She had watched from a high vantage point the beginning of the departure of the victorious army for their journey back to Camelot. She had watched the queen riding towards the front of the group, flanked by knights of Camelot, but with her husband nowhere in sight. Many of those who had fallen in battle had to be buried at the battlefield, but she knew that if the king had fallen in battle and been found, he would have been borne back to the citadel in honour, to be buried with his fathers – and she saw no such thing. Neither did she see him being borne injured back to the city. _No, Arthur was not among them – he had to be at Camlann somewhere._

And now she knew that he was badly injured and hidden somewhere. He would not be able to travel fast or far – and she and any of her own who were still living and loyal to her would hunt him down, and finish off the job that Mordred had started. But first she would honour the one who lay slain by her side.

~~~ O ~~~

The stillness that hung over the small clearing was a terrible one. The two young men – one a king, the other his servant – who had stood together on so many things were now distanced from each other in a pain-filled silence, with what felt like an unbridgeable chasm between them. Merlin stood a little distance away, leaning against a tree, although he kept glancing over towards Arthur. He couldn't imagine the troubled state of mind that Arthur must be in to reject his help, effectively condemning himself to death. And all he could think of was Arthur's reaction to him – and the look of fear and revulsion. _He'd left it too late to tell Arthur, too much time had gone by and too many lies had been told. And he'd failed to do the one thing that he knew he needed to do – stop Mordred – and now Arthur was dying. And it was his fault. _

Arthur, for his part, lay back and waited for death. The fact was that he was too weak to think it all through for himself, and too hurt even to try. Although he'd seen Merlin turn the battle in Camelot's favour - even protect him from the onslaught of the Saxons - the fresh sense of betrayal and the pain from his wound made him incapable of the sort of reasoning that could put all the pieces of puzzle he had in his hands together to see Merlin as he truly was, rather than how he imagined him at that point. Instead his mind was filled with the words of the Disir, going round and round and giving him no peace: _"the destruction of everything you most value. The end of your reign. The fall of Camelot itself…. Much pain and suffering for you, Arthur Pendragon…. All you hold dear…You have made your decision, sealed your fate."_

Arthur felt as if his heart had been pierced by the dagger of betrayal – once again – and it seemed as if the condemnation of the Desir was falling on him and crushing him completely. Not content to strike him down physically, they had also stripped away from him – without any mercy – the one friend who was with him in his hour of greatest need. _This was the Disir's punishment on him_, he told himself. _Whatever crime he had committed, whatever sin he was guilty of, this was the fate that they had imposed upon him, the sentence they had passed on him: to be betrayed or deceived or turned on by every last person who was close to him. The Disir had found him wanting, and were stripping away from him, as they'd said they would, everything he held dear – and very soon they would take his very life from him, and he would die alone. _Black despair settled on him, mingling with the pain from his wound.

But Merlin couldn't leave. At one point, Arthur was lying so still that Merlin suddenly feared for his life, and hurried across to kneel beside him and feel for his heart-beat. But he needn't have put his hand to Arthur's neck, because even as he was doing so, Arthur begged quietly without opening his eyes, "Go away."

Merlin began to appeal to him once again, "Arthur -"

But once again was cut off, "Just leave."

Merlin rose to his feet and stood for a few moments in silence, before saying in a choked voice, "I can't leave you, Arthur." But then he turned to walk back to where he'd been standing before. But after only a couple of paces, he paused and turned to look back at his friend, lying there – and saw that Arthur was staring at him. Their eyes met, and Merlin could see the despair in the clear blue eyes he knew so well. But Arthur immediately turned his head away and closed his eyes again.

"Gaius was here – he'll be back soon." Arthur didn't respond to Merlin's gentle words, but they had been spoken as a kindness. Even if Arthur wouldn't speak to him, Merlin still wanted him to know that someone that he would trust was on his way.

But _soon _turned out to be something of a vain hope. Merlin began to fear for the safety of Gauis, and was almost beside himself with worry for his elderly mentor when he finally returned after some hours, with three horses. Merlin ran to meet him – not just because he was relieved to see him, but also because he wanted to speak to him out of Arthur's earshot.

"Where have you been?"

"There was a patrol of Saxons who stopped and took a break near where I was hiding. I had to wait until they'd gone and it was safe to move again."

Gaius studied Merlin's strained expression. "Have you spoken to him?"

Merlin just nodded but Gaius didn't need any further explanation to tell him that it hadn't gone well with Arthur – Merlin's expression told him everything he needed to know. Gaius sighed deeply. "I take it it did not go well."

"He hates me Gaius – he doesn't want me anywhere near him!" The choked words that were spoken quietly and urgently cut deep into Gaius's heart . He knew that Merlin's deepest desire had always been for Arthur to see him for who he really was – and accept him. And that desire had clearly been shattered. Gaius continued, "It will have been a huge shock to him. You must give him time."

"We don't have time, Gaius!"

"Well maybe he will listen to me." Gaius cast a glance in the direction of the king: "Is he sleeping?"

"Either that or pretending so that he can avoid speaking to me."

"If I'm going to stem his bleeding, I'm going to need to find some suitable herbs – virtually all my supplies were used treating those from the battle."

Merlin was clearly beside himself at the thought of a further delay, and after another brief glance over at Arthur, asked the question that was tearing at his heart. "Can the wound be healed?"

He studied Gaius's face for any sign of hope in the physician's expression – but all he got was the non-committal answer that he'd had on so many occasions before: "It's too early to say."

"Maybe I should go and get some herbs – you could try talking to him."

But after a moment's pause as Gaius studied the anxiety that was etched deeply on the young warlock's face he answered, "No, you stay with him. If any Saxons find you, you'll be Arthur's best protection."

"And if the Saxons find you?"

"Well, let's just hope they don't."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's note**_

_**Almost immediately after posting chapter 6, I realised that I'd missed out a scene, and some better dialogue. So a couple of days I re-posted it with Morgana finding Mordred's body, slightly different dialogue, and a time delay which explains how Gaius finding horses and herbs took the best part of a day! So you may want to revisit that chapter (or you may not). And if you have the time or inclination let me know what you think in a review. This one's got a nice little bit of a flashback – well, I like it….!**_

Chapter 7

Gwen stood by the window in the room that she had shared with Arthur for almost four years, looking out into the courtyard below. Their departure from Camlann had been shortly after daybreak and the return to Camelot had been a swift one, unlike the journey that they had taken into the opposite direction only a couple of days earlier. That journey had been a deliberately slow one. They had known that a battle lay ahead, and so they had taken their time, wanting to converse their strength and not push themselves unnecessarily – but no such reticence was needed on their return. But each swift stride of the horses back to Camelot had felt to Gwen as if it were tearing her further apart from Arthur and fears for him had filled her all the way back to the citadel. She had changed out of her battle dress in her chambers and back into the rich lilac gown that was Arthur's favourite, as if wearing it would somehow draw him back to Camelot.

She watched as the dead who had been borne back to Camelot were laid out on the cold flagstones, and as the injured were supported and helped up the stone steps towards the hall that was being used to treat those who had been wounded. And although her heart went out to those who were in pain or in mourning, Arthur never, for a moment, left her thoughts. She both feared and longed to see her husband, not knowing if she would only see him covered by the same sort of white sheet that was draped over those who lay still and unmoving below.

As she stood with the knuckles of one hand pressed up against her lips, she heard the door open behind her, and knew without turning that the footsteps that approached her were those of Arthur's most loyal knight. She didn't even turn as Sir Leon began speaking to her. "Three more patrols have returned from the White Mountains, my lady."

She paused as she waited, fear gripping her heart, for the report that they had brought.

"There is no sign of him."

Gwen closed her eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to take over once again, but after a moment opened them again and resorted to the logic that brought her the only comfort that she had: "He must be somewhere!"

Leon heard the choked nature of her words, and continued in an even gentler tone: "We have spoken to every villager. Every man, woman, child… there has been no word."

And Gwen couldn't control any more the tears that began to well up in her eyes: "He is out there."

Even though the queen still had her back to him, Leon nodded. "We will keep searching," but there was pain on the kindly knight's face as he said the words. Arthur, despite his position, had always been a dear friend and comrade to Leon, and the thought of losing the king was unbearable to him, though his emotions were buried more deeply than those of the queen.

"He is alive." The words were said as much to convince herself as they were a conviction. "I know it." She brushed a tear from her cheeks. "I can feel it."

As the knight turned to leave, to give the queen privacy for her anguish, she finally turned towards him, a sudden question arising in her mind: "Who else is still unaccounted for?"

Leon turned back to face her, not wanting to say the single word that he knew would add to her anguish – but knowing he had to: "Gaius."

He watched as a look of disbelief verging on horror passed across Gwen's face: "He's not been seen?"

"Not since the battle."

She was too choked up to say another word, and the faithful knight slipped silently away. _Arthur, Gaius, Merlin. The three men she loved – relied upon – needed – more than any others were all missing. _

She suddenly felt very alone.

~~~ O ~~~

What was actually only another hour felt like an eternity to Merlin. He sat close to the fire and close to Arthur, but neither gave him any comfort. The warmth of the fire did nothing to ease the icy grip that fear had on his heart, and Arthur lay silently either sleeping or steadfastly refusing to even acknowledge the presence of his servant. Merlin didn't know what to do with himself, and waiting for Gaius simply felt like a slow torture. He sat on the ground and on edge, playing over and over in his mind the exchange with Arthur and only seeing in mind's eye the look of fear and rejection on his friend's face.

The sound of movement propelled Merlin to his feet in an instant, and before he could speak, Gaius was standing at his side.

"Any change?" The question was as much to do with Arthur's reaction to Merlin as it was about his physical condition.

Merlin gave a wordless and brief shake of his head.

"Let me see."

Gaius stooped down as he approached Arthur, who was still lying motionless, with his eyes closed, the bright red stain on his chainmail drawing the physician's eyes towards it.

Merlin stared at the small bunch of leaves grasped in Gaius's left hand. "Is that all you got?"

Gaius sat down on a small rock next to the king. "The hills are crawling with Saxons."

Gaius glanced back and his eyes met the concerned eyes of the young warlock, who protested, "No yarrow, no lady's mantle?"

Merlin threw out the names of the two plants that had been among the first whose properties Gaius had taught him. Fresh yarrow when placed on an open wound would often stop it's bleeding almost instantly. It was for that reason it was often called woundwort, and Merlin knew that Gaius would have always taken it to a battlefield, together with lady's mantle, which was known to slow blood flow and allow the healing of a wound to begin.

"I got comfrey."

Gaius's words were little comfort to Merlin. Comfrey may have been good for wounds, but Gaius had told Merlin more than once that it should never be applied to open wounds or broken skin. It was, therefore, almost useless for Arthur's injury.

"You should've got sticklewort. There must've been sticklewort." In the absence of anything better, he knew that at least that could be made into a poultice for the wound.

As Gaius laid his hand on the king's forehead, the only reply he had was, "Merlin, why don't you water the horses? And make sure they're fed. We can't hide here for much longer."

Merlin took a long look at both Gaius and Arthur and decided that the best thing he could do was exactly what had been suggested, and he turned and went.

As his footsteps receded, Arthur opened his eyes warily, and looked over towards where the sound of Merlin's movements were coming from, to check he was out of earshot.

He reached out his right hand and grabbed Gaius's old brown robe. Their eyes met.

"He's a sorcerer."

Gaius's lack of response and the fact that he could no longer meet Arthur's eyes brought the sickening truth home with a jolt to Arthur, and he tore his eyes away from the physician and leaned his head back against the log, with a look of utter defeat on his face: "You knew…."

"Arthur…" There was a pleading tone in his voice as Gaius began his appeal to the king: "He is your friend."

Part of Arthur – a small part – wanted desperately to believe it, but the larger part of him screamed that it couldn't be true, not after the years and years of lies and deception. Arthur couldn't even look back at Gaius: "I want him gone."

"There is no need to fear him."

But Arthur ignored the words and went on. "Have him take word to Camelot… To Guinivere."

"You cannot send Merlin. I will go."

But his appeal fell on deaf ears again, and Arthur became even more insistent, though he still spoke in a lowered voice: "I need a physician right now, not a sorcerer."

Arthur looked away from Gaius and in Merlin's direction, but Gaius was equally insistent: "He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine." Gaius leaned in, and continued his appeal. "Arthur, he doesn't just have magic."

His words seemed to have some effect and drew the king's eyes back to him. "There are those who say he is the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the Earth."

Arthur stared at the elderly man whom he had known all his life, and wondered for a moment if a sudden delusion had overtaken him. He momentarily forgot his injury, and uttered his one word question in total bewilderment: "Merlin?"

Gaius ignored the tone of utter disbelief in Arthur's voice. "If you are to stand any chance of survival, you will need Merlin to help you, not me."

The words _ any chance of survival_ suddenly brought Arthur back to the stark reality of his situation. And he turned his gaze once more towards the young man who had deceived him so completely – the young man that he was now being told was his only chance of cheating death.

Gaius took Arthur's silence as acquiescence, and decided that it was best to not give Arthur the opportunity to change his mind. "I need to examine and treat your wound as best I can, sire." And echoing words he had said to the king more than once before, he added grimly, "I'm afraid that this is going to hurt." He once again gave him a small rod to bite down on, but this time there was no foul-tasting potion to dull the pain. Gaius began the task of gently rolling back Arthur's chainmail and tunic to reach the wound, and it was all Arthur could do to stop himself writhing in agony. Several low groans emerged from between his clenched teeth, and a light sweat broke out on his forehead as Gaius begin to clean and pad the wounds as best he could, having to roll Arthur onto his side to reach the one on his back. And Arthur tried to keep his mind away from what Gaius was doing, but the only alternative to focusing on the pain was focusing on the truth that had rocked his world completely. He knew he trusted Gaius, and he knew Gaius trusted Merlin, but he still couldn't bring his mind to think beyond the lies and the deception that cut so deeply into his heart.

And just as Arthur's mind was on Merlin, Merlin's mind was on Arthur. Each pain-filled sound from Arthur tugged at his heart, and he longed to be able to be kneeling beside Gaius, helping the elderly physician tend to his friend. But he knew that, as things stood, that would only increase Arthur's discomfort rather than lessen it.

By the time the physician had finished treating the wounds, any colour that had remained in Arthur's cheeks had drained away completely and he was breathing heavily – and ominously, there wasn't the usual cheery reassurance, _you'll live_. But there was one more thing Gaius knew he had to do. "I'm sorry about this, sire, but I just need to do another small investigation." Arthur leaned his head back against the log once more and closed his eyes, bracing himself as best he could for more pain and still biting down hard on the small rod. Gaius began moving his fingers and pressing Arthur's chest slightly around and above the wound – and it didn't take him long to find what he feared was there. The sudden muffled yelp that Arthur let out in response to the sharp pain under the physician's fingers caused Merlin to look up abruptly and towards where Arthur was lying – and once more he had to resist the urge to run over to help.

As Gaius carefully drew Arthur's tunic and mail back over the wounds, the young king studied his face as he slowly and laboriously reached up to take the rod out of his mouth. "What aren't you telling me, Gaius?"

The old man paused, but then decided that there should be no more lies, and told the king of the fragment of sword embedded in his chest. When he had finished speaking, Arthur lay silently for several moments, staring out into space, before finally saying in a dull voice, "I'm going to die, then."

Gaius knew at that moment the words that Merlin would shortly utter and he knew what his reply would be. He laid his hand gently on Arthur's shoulder. "The situation is not without hope, my lord, but any healing won't be found in Camelot and will only be found with Merlin's help." He allowed a few moments for his words to sink in before continuing. "I know it's been hard for you to accept and take in, but I know of no-one who is more devoted and loyal to you and the queen than Merlin. Allow him to help you, sire – he is your only hope." When Arthur didn't move or reply, Gaius added: "You owe it to yourself, to Gwen and to Camelot."

And without meeting his eyes, Arthur finally gave him an almost imperceptible nod of acceptance.

And as Arthur was finally agreeing to Gaius's appeal, Merlin was finishing tending to the horses, giving some grass to the white horse that Gaius had found and gently stroking its nose. His attention was, however, only half on the horse, and as soon as he heard a noise behind him, he whirled around, anxious to know anything of Arthur.

"Gaius?"

The physician walked towards him and then stopped. "There's a fragment of sword embedded in his chest. "

"Then we'll use magic to draw it out."

"No. The blade that struck Arthur was no ordinary blade. I fear it was forged in the dragon's breath."

They both looked over to Arthur as Gaius continued: "It's fatal power will not be easily denied."

Merlin put the pieces together in his mind: "Aithusa?"

Without answering, Gaius went on, "The blade's point is travelling inexorably to his heart. Not even you could hope to thwart such magic. It would take a power as ancient as the dragons themselves."

And then came the words that Gaius had anticipated: "No. There must be something that we can do, Gaius."

"Only the Sidhe possess such magic. In the midst of the Lake of Avalon there is an ancient isle. That is the source of their power. You must take him there."

They both looked again across to Arthur, lying helpless on the ground. All that Merlin could say was, "He won't allow that."

And then Merlin finally heard the first words of hope he'd been given since finding Arthur: "He will. I spoke to him."

~~~ O ~~~

In the fading light, Morgana thrust Mordred's sword into the ground next to the pile of stones that marked his final resting place.

She stood, dirty and bedraggled, staring past the sword at his grave. And she made the dead druid a promise: "The battle is not over, Mordred."

She didn't take her eyes off the stones as the wind whipped through her hair, causing it to fly out to one side.

"We will have our revenge."

And Morgana meant it and believed it.

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin picked his way slowly over to where he had laid Arthur down on the ground, all those hours before – hours in which both their worlds had changed forever. Without looking, Arthur knew it was him approaching, and kept looking in the opposite direction. Merlin stopped when he reached Arthur's side.

"Arthur?"

The king turned slightly towards him, but refused to meet his eye.

"We need to leave at first light."

Arthur didn't answer immediately, but finally replied in a flat tone, "I'll decide," turning away from Merlin once again as he said the words.

Watching Arthur lying there so helpless and so utterly defeated, Merlin couldn't help himself, "I can't let you die."

Arthur's tone didn't change as he replied, "It doesn't change anything." And to show that the conversation was over, he turned his head away again and closed his eyes.

Gaius came and stood near a forlorn looking Merlin. "Let him sleep. It's late."

Merlin reluctantly took several steps away from Arthur and towards Gaius, who continued: "You cannot travel tonight." The anguish that was still written across Merlin's face drew a deep compassion from his elderly friend, who did his best to reassure him: "You were right to tell him." But the words did little to comfort or quell the turmoil in Merlin's heart, as he wondered whether Arthur would ever look on him as a friend again.

~~~ O ~~~

Gaius slipped into a dreamless sleep quickly – the advantage of an elderly body that had had more exercise in the previous two days than it had had in the previous month. For Merlin it was very different however: his thoughts and fears tormented him. The slender thread of hope that he held on to, however, was the fact that Arthur was a good man. If he could change his view about those who had been his enemies, then surely he could change his view about him…

~~~ O ~~~

"_I've decided to invite Odin to Camelot."_

_Merlin froze – the piece of armour that he was polishing in one hand, the cloth that he was using suspended in mid-air in the other. For a moment Merlin stared at the king as if he had taken leave of all of his senses, before remarking, "That's a –" Merlin searched for the right word, "- bold move, sire."_

"_That's not what Guinevere called it."_

"_Which was…?"_

"… _madness."_

"_She does have a point, Arthur. Or maybe it's escaped your memory that Odin tried to assassinate you twice, and had a sword raised - ready to behead you - slightly more recently."_

_Arthur brushed it off like an inconsequential fly: "Yes, but that was before we made our treaty."_

_Merlin thought that a hand-shake in a forest after trying to kill each other hardly amounted the same thing as a carefully worked out peace plan, but decided not to press the point or interrupt, as Arthur was clearly in one of his "radical thinking" moments – _Well, it was either that or gross stupidity.

"… _It's not enough to not want to kill each other. We need to be able to work together if our kingdoms are going to truly flourish."_

_As Arthur paused, Merlin recommenced his polishing – but in the event, it wasn't long before he came to abrupt halt once again._

"_I've also invited Rodor… and Princess Mithian."_

_The look of sheer disbelief on Merlin's face lasted several moments before he could think of a suitable response: "That's…. interesting."_

" 'Interesting'_? Is that good or bad?"_

"_It's somewhere between 'bold' and 'madness' I'd say."_

_But Arthur wasn't to be deflected from his plan, and in the days that led up to the visitors arriving in Camelot, Arthur worked tirelessly on the speech he would give at the banquet in honour of his guests. Although Merlin frequently had a hand in speech-writing – either as the one who took down Arthur's dictation or as the one who actually wrote it – on this occasion the king wrote virtually all of it himself, with Merlin relegated to correcting the grammar and spelling. In the end, Merlin virtually knew the speech off by heart, as he'd had to listen to it so many times as Arthur practised._

_But Arthur's plan worked, and there weren't many there the night of the banquet who forgot Arthur's words, even though they – unlike Merlin – heard them only once. The king did, however, shoot Merlin a sharp but surreptitious warning glare when he happened to catch sight of him – two or three sentences into the speech - standing over against the wall and absent-mindedly mouthing the speech word for word along with him. Merlin caught the glare and firmly shut his mouth – and then grinned. Had Arthur not been in the middle of speech he would have rolled his eyes._

_Mithian looked at the man she had once so nearly married – the man that she had also against her will betrayed – and would have felt envious of Guinevere, had the two women not developed such a firm friendship. As Annis had once observed, there was something about Arthur that gave them hope for the future of their lands – a hope of peace and goodwill. Her mind was brought abruptly back to the speech, as Arthur paused before continuing._

_"Last time we were all in the same place – " Arthur's eyes roamed across Odin, Rodor and Mithian before briefly meeting those of Percival – he had been the only one from Camelot apart from Merlin who had witnessed Arthur being forced to kneel before Odin, whose sword was raised to end the king of Camelot's life. Arthur went on: " – there were those who sought to stir up hatred and play on our fears. They would still do the same." He didn't need to mention Morgana's name for everyone in the room to know who he was referring to. "All of us, myself included, have acted in ways that have not advanced our kingdoms or helped them to find peace with each other." He paused again, taking a moment to look around the room at both his guests and his subjects. "But looking over our shoulders and constantly dwelling on past mistakes, past failures, past injuries is no way forward. Being willing instead to put those things behind us and grasp, not our swords but the hands of each other, is a different way, a better way. It is not a sign of weakness but of hope, of courage, of strength…."_

~~~ O ~~~

The words echoed like a distant memory in Merlin's head and he gradually drifted into a sleep that was less troubled than that of his waking mind. But as he slept, the would-be-queen sat on her makeshift throne, half dazed, half crazed. The three men who had walked in through the door bowed to Morgana.

"My lady. We've searched every valley, every gorge, every gully…The king is nowhere to be found."

The final words raised her from her seeming stupor, and she screamed across the hall, "I want him dead!"

"We've looked…" but the excuse was ill-advised and died on the soldier's lips as Morgana's eyes flashed gold and her hands grasped the air in front of her as if it was his throat.

The Saxon let out a choking sound and then fell to the ground – dead – leaving the other two men nervous and silent.

"Find him."

The two men bowed, and quickly left her presence without speaking another word, and the witch lapsed back into her personal torment, with only one thing on her mind – the death of Arthur Pendragon.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's note**_

_**Sorry, there's not much new in this chapter except more descriptions around the events of the episode – I was going to write more in this chapter, but then thought it was a quite nice place to end it, and I will work on the next bit tonight – might even post, who knows! Chapter 10 will have a very big flashback to new stuff!**_

Chapter 8

Merlin shook Arthur's shoulder gently, "Arthur…"

The king opened his eyes and, as he stared at Merlin, it looked for a moment as if he were having problems focussing, but then he suddenly seemed to remember everything, and turned his face away from him.

A sharp pang of pain went through Merlin's heart at the fresh rejection, but he knew he had to put his own feelings to one side if he was going to help Arthur. "Here, eat this – " Merlin held out a small piece of bread towards him.

Arthur turned his eyes towards the bread, and said in a flat tone, "I'm not hungry," before looking away again.

"Arthur – you need to eat. You'll need strength for the journey ahead."

Arthur didn't even bother to look back at Merlin as he spoke. "I said I'm not hungry…"

Merlin opened his mouth to be more insistent, but then closed it again, finding his heart suddenly stirred with compassion for his friend. He laid his hand lightly on Arthur's arm and spoke more gently: "Then we'd better get going." With that he rose to his feet, and went across to bring the horse closer to Arthur, conscious of not wanting him to have to exert himself any more than was absolutely necessary.

Merlin looked at the small piece of bread – his own stomach rumbled, but he tucked it in the horse's saddle bag instead, hoping that at some point Arthur would change his mind. As Gaius continued to ready his own horse, Merlin led Arthur's mount over to the king. Merlin caught the daunted look that passed across his face, and answered Arthur's unspoken apprehension: "Here – I'll help you."

Merlin crouched down to the right of Arthur, picked up his arm and wrapped it around his own neck. Arthur would have shrunk back from the close contact with the sorcerer, but he knew he didn't have any option but to let Merlin help him.

Merlin watched as Arthur winced in pain as he clumsily pulled him upright. But if helping Arthur to his feet was inelegant, trying to help him up onto his horse was even worse. Merlin persuaded Arthur to get on from the opposite side to the one he normally did, in an attempt to put less strain on the wound and, in the event, it involved more of Merlin pushing than of Arthur pulling himself up onto the horse.

And Arthur's attempts to avoid letting out any cries of pain in the process failed utterly –and all he could do once sitting in the saddle was lean forwards and take several large gulps of air – and Merlin had to stop him leaning over too far to the side, pushing him gently back into a more upright position.

With a small grunt, Arthur reached up to his neck and rather laboriously pulled over his head the large ring on a leather thong that had been hanging around his neck.

"Gaius…"

The elderly physician approached his horse as Merlin moved off to one side to give him space next to the king.

Arthur took the ring and its cord and placed them in Gaius's hand: "Give this to Guinevere."

The wise old eyes looked first at what lay in his palm and then up at the king, and when he spoke there was surprise in his voice: "It's the royal seal, sire."

Gaius knew that since becoming king, Arthur had only once given the ring to another person – to Agravaine – and that had been when he had not expected to return from the Isle of the Blessed. Handing over the ring was tantamount to handing over the authority of the throne of Camelot, entrusting its rule to another.

"If I am to die, I can think of no one who I would rather succeed me."

And Gaius knew that Arthur was also saying goodbye to him. Gaius took the hand that was held out to him, and grasped it gently, meeting Arthur's eyes but not able to speak – and although there was a weak smile on Arthur's face, his eyes were full of sadness as he let go of the man who had helped bring him into the world and who had been there for him throughout his whole life.

Gaius tore himself away, conscious that there was another farewell to be made. But Merlin's first words were, "You know I was betrayed. The girl Eira cannot be trusted."

Gaius had thought as much, "I know."

Merlin then lowered his voice. "How long does he have?"

Gaius hesitated, but knew he had to be utterly honest with Merlin. "At best, two days."

The task that lay ahead suddenly took on a new urgency, and Merlin began walking towards Arthur, but before he reached the king's horse, he was called back. "Merlin…" Merlin turned and faced his mentor, whose heart was heavy with apprehension for what the hours ahead held for the two men, and who was conscious of how the fate of the young man he considered a son was so closely bound up with Arthur's. Mentor and student embraced, neither wanting to let go of the other but knowing they had to. Gaius looked him up and down one last time, and added with words that were spoken more in hope that expectation, "I'll have your favourite meal waiting for you." And Gaius spurred him on one last time: "Now go….. Look after him," adding as Merlin stood rooted to the spot, "Go."

And as Merlin led Arthur's horse away, Arthur and then Merlin independently both looked over their shoulders one last time at Camelot's oldest and most faithful servant.

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin walked leading both horses for several minutes. He kept looking round at Arthur, unsure as to how he would manage on horseback. Arthur remained slumped forward, but he did at least remain in the saddle. Merlin guessed that every small jolt from every step that the horse took would, at best, be discomforting for the wounded king, more likely painful, and at worst, excruciating. But Merlin knew that they would have to go faster than a slow walk if there was to be any chance of reaching Avalon in time, and to Merlin's relief, when he finally stopped for a moment and asked Arthur if he thought he would be able to cope with going a little faster, he received a wordless but small nod in return. And so Merlin let go of the horse's bridle, mounted his own and the two men began, in earnest, their ride towards Avalon.

~~~ O ~~~

Gwaine was standing in the courtyard as Gaius came galloping in several hours later, and he immediately stepped forwards to take hold of the horse, helping bring it to a halt. And as he did so, the actions were watched keenly but fearfully by the queen, who had barely moved from the window all day. She knew that he was the one person more likely than anyone else to bring her news of Arthur – for good or for ill – and she ran down to meet the two men as they hurried up the stairs just inside the main doors.

The skirts of her dress had not even come to rest before she began speaking, "Gaius?"

"My lady…"

"Tell me." Her whole body was tensed up as she waited for the words that would either break her heart or bring it hope.

"He's alive."

Gwen gasped at the two words and the sheer relief made bring one hand up to cover her face as she began to breathe again.

But it was Gwaine who asked the question that was begged: "Then why isn't he with you?"

Gaius chose his words carefully, not wanting to cause Guinevere more distress than was necessary: "He is wounded."

She looked up wide-eyed, the fear having returned after the smallest respite. Her eyes were drawn downwards by the movement of Gaius's hand. And in his fingers he held the royal seal. He held it out to her: "He wanted me to give you this, my lady."

And any relief that she had felt was suddenly diminished. She took the ring and studied the dragon that was emblazoned on the centre of it: the Pendragon emblem – her husband's emblem - but hers now as well. And as Gaius had done several hours earlier, she knew that it was Arthur telling her that he might not return.

With eyes that had suddenly welled up with tears, she asked in a voice that was near to breaking, "Where is he?" Suddenly all that she wanted was to go to him and help him.

Gaius explained gently, "There is a place where he may be saved. Merlin is taking him there as we speak."

Guinevere turned to Gwaine with a sudden urgency in her voice, "We must send the knights. Ready as many men as you can."

But before the knight could respond, Gaius interjected, "No, my lady! Merlin can cope by himself."

The queen stared at him with a look of incomprehension on her face and a disbelieving tone in her voice: "Merlin?"

"You must trust him."

But his words made little sense to her. "How can one man be as strong as an army?" The question was thrown out, almost in desperation.

Gaius answered firmly and with conviction: "Morgana's forces are still searching for Arthur. Two men travelling alone stand a much better chance of evading her, especially if she has no idea where they're heading."

Guinevere stared at him, trying to catch his meaning, but as the physician turned his gaze towards Gwaine, the penny finally dropped.

But before Gaius began to explain in more details about Eira's betrayal and before they began to plan a course of action that would turn her betrayal to their advantage, one small question briefly arose in Gwen's mind – and it was simply this: _When had Merlin arrived at the battle?_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's note**_

_**Two chapters in one evening! Well, some of this was written beforehand. It will take longer to put the next chapter up, but there will be more new stuff in it. Hope you're enjoying it.**_

Chapter 9

Progress was slow, but steady. Merlin had, of course, briefly thought of calling on Kilgharrah to bear them both to Avalon, but two things stopped him doing so: firstly, Arthur. Merlin knew that if he were to have any hope of being reconciled to Arthur, then he would have to take things gently and prove himself to Arthur. Calling on the enormous dragon that Arthur had last seen trying to destroy Camelot was neither taking things gently nor the sort of proof that Arthur needed. And secondly, the last time Merlin had seen Kilgharrah, it had been evident to him that the dragon was nearing the end of his life and feeling his frailty. They could make Avalon in time on horseback, without resorting to such desperate measures.

But as their two horses walked across the exposed open moor, Merlin saw the one thing he had been fearing:

"Saxons." Merlin jumped down from his horse as the two riders came galloping towards them. He grabbed a blanket from the back of his horse, and began to pull it over the king who was still slumped forward on the horse.

"I'll deal with them." The words came through force of habit. Arthur had always been used to being the strong one, the one in control, the one who would always take charge and make the decisions. He didn't want to admit his complete impotence and vulnerability to himself, and was unwilling to face up to the simple truth that there would be nothing he could do against the Saxons.

Merlin finished cloaking Arthur as best he could in the blanket. "Keep your head down, don't speak." He knew he needed a believable story and he needed it quickly. His eyes flashed gold and smoke suddenly began to rise from the forests down in the valley beneath them.

As the two Saxons got closer, Merlin raised his arm and hailed them: "Help us!"

Merlin, who had spent a lifetime hiding his identity and purposes, began his act with a look of desperation on his face as the Saxons dismounted. "Please, you have to help us. We were ambushed."

The older of the two men spoke: "By who?"

"These two men."

"What did they look like?"

Merlin thought fast: "Er.. One was a .." he hesitated as he looked back to Arthur, and with horror saw his richly adorned sword clearly in view." He continued, trying to sound as convincing as possible: "…a knight. They stormed our camp." He pointed to the smoke rising from amongst the trees, distracting the Saxons sufficiently to give him time to quickly cover the sword with Arthur's blanket. The two men turned back towards Merlin and the same man spoke again: "Are you sure it was a Camelot knight?" and the tone in his voice indicated that he was not ready to believe Merlin's story.

Merlin simply replied, "Yeah."

But the Saxons knew what they were looking for – Morgana had told them not only that Arthur was somewhere out there but also that he was wounded. The Saxon walked towards Arthur's horse, pushing Merlin out of the way, and with one deft move pulled the blanket away, to reveal the king of Camelot. Arthur looked up helplessly as he heard the sound of two swords being drawn – and saw Merlin standing between him and the men. He watched as Merlin stretched his hands out towards the Saxons and with one sharp movement of his hands propelled them both several feet backwards through the air. The Saxons cried out as they flew backwards, but fell silent as they hit the ground – and lay there unmoving.

Arthur stared at the vanquished Saxons and then at Merlin, who was still standing with his back to Arthur – and when Arthur spoke, there was bitterness in his voice: "You've lied to me all this time." There was part of him that simply couldn't accept what he was seeing. In their friendship – their partnership – he had always seen himself as the one with the power and authority, but the truth suddenly hit home that had his father not been a king, he probably would have led a fairly ordinary life. _But Merlin…._ For the first time ever, Arthur felt unimportant next to Merlin, and he didn't like the feeling. And it didn't help him to accept Merlin for who he was – if anything, it only increased the gulf between them.

~~~ O ~~~

The rest of the day was spent in almost complete silence. They made good progress, and to Merlin's relief Arthur seemed able to cope with the ride, and so they took advantage of as much daylight as they could, only stopping occasionally for Merlin to give Arthur water to drink. As the light faded, Merlin found a place for them to make camp for the night amongst some trees. Getting Arthur off the horse, was easier than getting him on, although it resembled a fall from the horse more than a dismount, and Merlin found Arthur's weight suddenly descending on him, and only just managed to keep both of them from collapsing to the ground.

Arthur still didn't appreciate having to have such close contact with Merlin, but again didn't have a choice. The two of them stumbled over towards a tree, and Merlin laid Arthur down next to it, with a blanket over its roots as a makeshift pillow. He then set about the task of securing the horses, and building a small fire to give some warmth to them both. Merlin crouched beside the small pile of sticks, leaves and twigs and began striking the flint to get a spark. After several unsuccessful attempts to coax the pile into flame, Merlin heard Arthur's weary but slightly sarcastic voice behind him: "Why don't you use magic?"

Merlin paused and thought, and without turning to face Arthur, answered his question: "Habit, I suppose."

When Arthur didn't comment further, Merlin finally turned round and looked at him, and without saying a word, Arthur raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the fire, as if to say, _go on then._

Merlin turned his gaze onto the fire, and without needing to speak a single word the wood burst suddenly into flame.

Arthur stared at the fire and then his servant as Merlin commented, "Feels strange."

"Yeah." Arthur continued to stare at Merlin as he went over to fetch his blanket, and continued in the same slightly drowsy voice: "I thought I knew you. "

Merlin turned and began to lay out his bedding on the ground, next to the fire. "I'm still the same person."

But Arthur's voice was laced with disillusionment when he continued, "I trusted you."

Merlin looked up, and with genuineness in his voice said "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," but his words were ones of regret rather than apology, and once again Merlin felt the pain of rejection in his heart. But instead of letting it push him further away from Arthur, Merlin decided to counter it with kindness. He went over towards Arthur and began pulling off one of his boots. There was nothing Arthur could do to stop him, other than asking with suspicion in his voice, "What are you doing?"

Merlin pulled the other boot off, and looked steadily at Arthur: "They need drying." And with that he picked up the boots and set them next to the fire.

Arthur watched him silently, and his gaze went from the boots to Merlin and back again.

~~~ O ~~~

And far away in Camelot, under the cover of darkness, Eira sent her message to Morgana by a raven, telling her of Arthur's destination, unaware that she was being played more skilfully than she had played Gwaine – unaware, that is, until Gwaine walked into the darkened storeroom from where Eira had released the bird.

"Eira…."

"I… I was just…"

Gwaine finished her sentence, but there was sadness in his words: "Sending word to Morgana?"

"No," but she found her reply was no longer just to Gwaine, but to the queen as well as Guinevere walked in.

There was desperation in Eira's voice as she tried to defend herself. "My lady. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't betray you or the king."

Gwen spoke calmly but with a steely authority: "And you didn't. You can go to your death safe in that knowledge. Your note will send your mistress riding for Brineved, and all the while the king will be travelling in the opposite direction." She then called out her order. "Guards!

And as the soldiers dragged her away she repeatedly called out to Gwaine to help her, but the knight hardened his heart against the woman who had broken it.

~~~ O ~~~

After watering the horses, Merlin sat down on his blanket and threw a few more sticks that he had collected onto the small fire. Arthur looked steadily at the young man sitting opposite him. For a few moments he studied the face of the person he thought he'd known so well, and then threw out a question in a voice that still carried some hostility. "That's why you left Ealdor, wasn't it? Because you had magic"

Merlin nodded.

"But your friend, Will – he had magic too."

Merlin shook his head this time and kept quiet, leaving Arthur to put the pieces together.

Arthur suddenly remembered it all – Merlin wanting to tell him something before the battle, and then later turning to him and beginning to speak when he'd asked who'd conjured the whirlwind. _But Merlin had never completed what he was going to say, because at that point Will had suddenly put himself between him and the bandit's crossbow, saving his life. And then Will had protected Merlin, his friend – protected him from a proud prince who wouldn't accept sorcery, even when it had saved the village, and probably therefore his own life._ But Arthur wasn't ready to entertain any revelations or ideas that would throw into question his black and white judgment of magic.

Arthur tried a different tack. "Where did your magic come from? Does Hunith have magic?"

Merlin paused before answering. He stared down at the ground, not wanting to meet Arthur's eye, and idly twirled a small twig around in his fingers as he gave his answer. "No – it came from my father."

Arthur threw back at him, "I thought you'd never met him, or was that a lie too?"

Merlin continued to look at the dirt by his feet. "That was true – at least it was when I told you that. But I did meet him…" Merlin finally looked up and met Arthur's piercing gaze: "… and so did you."

Arthur didn't speak but shot Merlin a puzzled look. Merlin gave just five words of explanation: "Balinor – my father was Balinor." Merlin paused, and then looked at the ground again and added in a quiet voice, "I knew him for little more than a day."

The puzzlement on Arthur's face was replaced by a look of shock. He remembered the unexpected grief that Merlin had shown for the man who was little more than a stranger to them both. He'd been surprised at the way Merlin had shed tears for a man he'd barely met. Arthur swallowed hard as he thought about the death of his own father - how he'd been given kindness and understanding, and time and space to grieve. He remembered how Merlin had stayed up all night, faithfully waiting outside the door of the throne-room for him, just so that he wouldn't be alone. And he realised that he had given Merlin no such care in his own bereavement – not that he'd known about the loss, of course, but Arthur was still shocked to think about how Merlin had had to hide his feelings and grief and carry on as if nothing had happened. He remembered the exchange they'd had after they had given Balinor a hasty burial where he fell, in Cenred's kingdom….

~~~ O ~~~

"_You know the rules, Merlin…"_

_Merlin stood frozen with the stone in his hand, and fixed Arthur with a look that seemed to the prince part way between incredulity and despair. "…sorcerers are not permitted to have marked graves."_

_But when Merlin replied, there was an inexplicable anger in his servant's voice: "Arthur! He died because he was trying to help Camelot – he deserves a decent burial." And then Merlin added pointedly, his eyes flashing with anger still: " – and THIS is not your father's kingdom." _

_There was something in Merlin's tone that caused Arthur to think again – for some reason that Arthur couldn't fathom, Merlin seemed to care that this man's death should not go unmarked. Arthur softened, and then relented, and gave Merlin a little nod to show that his request had been granted._

~~~ O ~~~

Arthur voiced a quiet, _I'm sorry, _and then a silence hung between the two men – and in that silence Arthur began to put together the pieces of a puzzle in his mind. After a while, he suddenly asked, "Is that how you commanded that dragon at the battle – are you a dragonlord like him?"

Merlin finally looked up again and smiled, "Yes – the gift passed to me when my father died. I am now the last dragonlord." Arthur raised one eyebrow at his servant in what seemed like an almost comical way – it was the first sign of humour that Merlin had seen from him in many days and – more importantly – since he'd told him his secret. Merlin let out a little laugh. "Yes, I know - it's hard to believe from looking at me!"

Arthur looked at him, almost warily, and said in what sounded to Merlin like a slightly put-out tone, "And you're going to tell me that I didn't kill the great dragon, aren't you?"

"There's actually quite a lot I should tell you about dragons, Arthur." And with that, Merlin began to tell the tale of how he'd first encountered Kilgharrah, confessing eventually that he'd been the one to release him in order to save Camelot. Arthur had shut his eyes as he lay back and listened, and when he didn't seem to respond to the news about him freeing the dragon, Merlin stopped mid-sentence, thinking Arthur had drifted off to sleep. Arthur didn't move or open his eyes, but murmured, "Go on – I'm listening." So Merlin continued, and told him about the dragon's egg, which did elicit a barely audible, _Another lie…, _but by the time Merlin had described the encounter he'd had with Aithusa at Ismere, Arthur's breathing had become regular and even, and when Merlin broke off for a second time, the king didn't respond. Without making a sound, Merlin rose to his feet, picked up the blanket he'd been sitting on, and gently laid it over Arthur, drawing it up near his chin. He then set about fetching some more wood for the fire to keep them both warm before finally sitting himself down against a tree to get some sleep as best he could, pulling his jacket around him against the chill of the night.

But before closing his eyes, Merlin watched Arthur for a while as he slept. And as he did, the awful truth of Gaius's words that morning came home to him afresh: _Unless they reached Avalon in time, Arthur only had two nights and one day left to live…_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's note**_

_OK, this is a biggy (in length and in subject matter). Hope you enjoy it – let me know, if you do! The next chapter may be a while in coming…._

Chapter 10

As the early morning sun streamed through the trees in the small wood, Arthur woke to find Merlin preparing food - a small rabbit had come to a swift end with one flash from Merlin's eyes. Much as the young warlock hated hunting for sport, he had no trouble with ending the life of an animal when there was a need for food – and he was rather partial to rabbit stew. Not that what he was cooking was stew exactly: the size of this particular rabbit – not only small but little more than skin and bones - meant it was nearer to a thick soup than a hearty stew. His years in Ealdor - where getting by was the watchword of each and every year - taught him the skill of making meals out of meagre supplies. If time had permitted, he would have made proper broth from the rabbit, but that would have taken several hours of boiling the bones, and he didn't have that time. So instead he'd taken the few scraps of meat he'd coaxed off the bones of the animal and, without any vegetables or cooking implements save a small pot, somehow turned it into a thick soup (he'd never quite figured out how to use his magic to culinary ends).

As Merlin heard Arthur moving, he half turned his body to look at him as he continued stirring the concoction in the small pot that was suspended above the fire: that bit at least he could do with magic.. Merlin looked at his friend, noting with some concern the fact that, even after a night's sleep, he seemed to have no more colour than the day before. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful."

Merlin went to find a small bowl and spoon that he'd recovered from one of their saddle bags, and then filled the bowl with the soup, and blew on it slightly to cool it. He then took it and crouched at Arthur's side – one knee on the ground and one bent, to make a little platform on which to rest the bowl. With one hand he raised Arthur's head slightly and with the other filled the spoon and held it near Arthur's mouth. "This will be good for you." When Arthur neither opened his mouth to eat nor speak, Merlin urged him, "Eat it."

If Arthur had softened slightly towards Merlin the previous evening, then he was determined not to show it. He turned his head to face him, and asked in a somewhat belligerent voice, "Why are you doing this?" Merlin slowly returned the spoon to the bowl and, in case Merlin was in any doubt as to what he was asking, Arthur went on in the same tone of voice: "Why are you still behaving like a servant?"

Merlin carefully placed the bowl on the ground, and fixed Arthur with a firm but kind expression. He paused for a moment, and then began. "It's my destiny..." A small smile came to his face. "…As it has been since the day we met."

Arthur studied his face; he saw there kindness and warmth, but also the slight impishness that had drawn him to Merlin in the early days. Here was no "boot-licker" (to use Merlin's word) but someone who said what he meant, and who he could relate to more as a….. _friend – yes, that was the only word to describe it. _Whether he intended it or not, Arthur's belligerence melted away and on his face instead there was the indication of the dawning of a memory, as Arthur remembered back to their first encounters. And the embers of friendship began to flicker into flame once again. Arthur remembered the fearless (or foolhardy) youth who had dared to challenge the prince of Camelot – and call him a prat… _a royal one_. "I tried to take your head off with a mace." And as he said the words, there was a glimmer of humour in his eyes and the hint of a smile about his mouth.

A little grin formed on Merlin's face: "And I stopped you – using magic."

Arthur gave a look of mock indignation: "You cheated."

Merlin grinned again, but this time more broadly – encouraged by Arthur's response: "Yeah. You were going to kill me."

"I should've…" but Merlin knew he didn't really mean it.

"Glad you didn't."

Arthur lay there silent, looking straight ahead, deep in thought for a moment. Merlin leaned in and when he spoke again, there was a solemnness in what he said: "I do this because of who you are." Arthur cast a sideways glance, and their eyes met. Merlin continued, "Without you, Camelot's nothing."

"There was a time when that was true, but not now. There are many who could fill the crown."

Merlin smiled. "Never be another like you, Arthur."

The king was silent, and looked away again, and in his heart there was - once again - a marvelling at Merlin's loyalty and the confidence that his servant had in him – _had __always__ had in him._

Merlin picked up the bowl and spoon, and for a second time lifted Arthur's head and brought the spoon to his mouth, saying as he did so, "I also do this because you're my friend and I don't want to lose you." And this time Arthur took the food from him.

The assurance and evidence of Merlin's friendship and care somehow seemed to sooth away the sense of betrayal that had devastated Arthur only two days before. And between mouthfuls Arthur began making comments and asking questions – not with hostility in his voice as he'd done the previous evening, but with thoughtfulness and interest, suddenly wanting to know as much as he could about the new side of his friend, so recently discovered.

"You never tried to seize hold of power – why?"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders and gave the simple answer, "It wasn't mine to take."

Merlin paused as he fed Arthur another spoonful of the soup. "Besides, it would have been too much power for one person. I didn't want to become like Sigan."

Arthur remembered the power-hungry sorcerer who had tried to overthrow Camelot – and then thought of a more recent example, and added after swallowing the latest mouthful, "… or like Morgana?"

Merlin nodded. "Far better that my power be used in the service of a ruler with a good heart."

And as another spoonful went in, he added, "And can you imagine me as a king?"

Arthur almost choked on his food, finding the mental image of Merlin in a crown comical in the extreme. And as Arthur tried to coax the mouthful to go down the right way, Merlin continued: "I can't even keep my own bedroom in order –"

"or mine!" interjected Arthur with a mouth still partly full of food.

As Merlin refilled the spoon he added with a grin, "Just think about the chaos I could wreak on a whole kingdom!"

But when he offered Arthur the spoon again, he wouldn't take it. A sadness suddenly filled his eyes, and Merlin withdrew the spoon, put it back in the bowl and waited for him to speak.

"My father ruled for almost thirty years – but I will have ruled for barely five."

Merlin couldn't bear to hear the words that he was saying, and so protested loudly. "Arthur – we are going to find healing for you and you will have many more years ahead of you!"

"But If I die – " Arthur paused and Merlin found the sadness in Arthur's tone and expression almost unbearable: " – I will have left my father with no heir to the Pendragon name."

Merlin laid a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look round and meet Merlin's eyes: "Uther's name may be forgotten – but not yours! Arthur – your name and the name of Pendragon will always be remembered – heir or not. Your greatest legacy, Arthur, will always be the kingdom you have built and the sort of crown that you have worn – one of justice and peace. That's why you came to the battle, wasn't it? Not to grab land or power but to bring peace to your people!"

Arthur thought for a moment. "But we couldn't have won the battle without you – you turned it in our favour."

Merlin smiled, "Maybe…"

And then Arthur remembered something else. "You spoke to me – in my sleep. You told me about the hidden pass and stopped us being outflanked."

Merlin grinned, "Just one of my many talents!"

Merlin was beginning to scrape the bottom of the small bowl, but before taking another spoonful Arthur finally asked the question that been constantly with him at Camlann: "Where did you go?"

"Morgana had taken my magic, and I knew that without it, I couldn't possibly help you. There was one place I knew I might find it again – a place called the crystal cave – the birthplace of magic itself."

If Arthur's mouth hadn't been full he would have responded, _I've never heard of it._

But Merlin seemed to know instinctively what he would say: "It's in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. I'd been there once before, when you were shot in the back."

"I've never been – " Arthur began to protest with his mouth still partly full – but then suddenly broke off, and raised his eyebrows at Merlin. "Yet another lie?"

Merlin just grinned again. "I've never been terribly good at healing you when you get yourself shot. I've been better on the whole with poisonings – except when you were bitten by the questing beast. I had to heal you with water from the cup of life that time."

Arthur stared at him with amazement written all over his face. After a moment he exclaimed, "Is anything you've said to me actually true?" There was sarcasm in his voice, but it was a more playful tone than the bitterness that had been there the previous day.

"Would you'd preferred it if I'd let you die?" quipped Merlin.

Arthur remained silent as Merlin put the last spoonful of the soup in his mouth. Merlin wished he knew what was going through his mind – but he was about to find out. The mention of death had focused Arthur's mind and sent his thoughts back to the words of the Disir and him losing all that was dear to him. And he was suddenly plagued by the thought that he hadn't said a proper goodbye to Guinevere the last time he'd seen her. They'd been propelled into action in the middle of the night by Merlin's message, and even when Arthur had come back to his tent and Guinevere had done the job that Merlin would normally do – that of fastening on his armour – his mind had already been on the battle, and he had scarcely taken any time to bid her farewell. It had been a hasty kiss, and a hurried, _I'll see you after the battle._

He swallowed the soup and then blurted out, "I need to give Guinevere a message. I want to write her something."

"We don't have time, Arthur – we must get going. Besides – you're going to see her again soon."

But they both knew, however, that Merlin couldn't give that guarantee.

"But what if I don't….."

Merlin hesitated and Arthur began pleading, his voice almost breaking. "Merlin – I can't do a single thing for myself – I can't even feed myself. Please don't refuse me. Please help me."

Merlin saw the desperation in Arthur's eyes, and acquiesced. "I'll get something to write on," and began to stand up with the empty bowl in his hand

"What about your food?"

Merlin brushed it off, muttering something about not being hungry, but Arthur knew he was lying again – but this time to cover up the fact that he'd given all the food they had to him.

As Merlin went rummaging in the saddle bags, Arthur's heart suddenly ached for Guinevere, longing to have her with him: to see her face, to hear her voice, to feel her touch, and to bathe in the warmth of her smile. And he thought back to how he'd almost lost her to Morgana's enchantment – and that thought brought another memory abruptly back, and with it a sense of guilt.

As Merlin returned with a piece of parchment on one side of which there was a map, Arthur looked up at him: "She told me to remember and I didn't."

"Who, Gwen?"

"No, the old sorceress – the Dolma – she told me to remember that magic had saved Gwen, but I forgot. I forgot that I'd seen sorcery being used with kindness and for good."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "And you accuse me of not paying enough attention to detail! Well, I can forgive you I suppose – you never were very good at paying attention to what I told you."

"What you told me….? Do you mean to tell me – " and Arthur broke off and stared at him once again with a look of utter incredulity.

Merlin then exclaimed, "I could have killed Gaius when he said that the sorcerer was going to be a woman!"

Arthur put his head back and laughed. But the laughter was short-lived. The action sent sharp agonising stabs of pain through his body and he cried out suddenly and grabbed Merlin's arm and gripped it so tight that it caused him pain. Merlin pushed him back and held him down to stop his body moving in an attempt to ease his pain, and then almost instinctively laid his hand over the wound as Arthur continued to grip him, and uttered some words of magic. Whether they'd had any effect or not, Merlin wasn't sure, but gradually Arthur's breathing calmed down again, and eventually he was able to catch his breath enough to say, "Don't ever do that again." When Merlin gave him a slightly puzzled look, unsure of to what he was referring, Arthur just added, "Make me laugh."

Merlin sat down cross legged beside Arthur with the blank side of the parchment facing up. "What do you want to say, then?"

It was Arthur's turn to look puzzled: "You haven't got a pen or ink..."

"Shall we just say I'm good at improvising!"

And with that Arthur began to pour out his heart and his love. For one who had never been good at expressing his feelings for those he cared for, he seemed remarkably articulate for once: the fact that he was dying had focused his mind. Merlin was glad that he wasn't the one having to speak, because there was a lump in his throat, and he almost felt guilty for having to (of necessity) intrude upon Arthur's deepest and most private feelings. Arthur spoke simply but eloquently of the love he felt for her, his gratitude that she had been willing to be not only his wife but his queen, his confidence in her, and of how lucky he felt to have at his side not only one who was beautiful on the outside but also within. He finished with the words, _There is only one thing that I regret – and that is not marrying you when I first had the opportunity. You have been and always will be the love of my life – my heart has only ever belonged to you and to you alone. I love you Guinevere – with all my heart. Arthur. _

Both men sat in silence for a few moments, and then Merlin carefully folded the square of parchment – but was unsure of what to do with it. Arthur caught his hesitation: "Take care of it for me."

As Merlin slid the precious note inside his tunic, the king suddenly smiled. "It was a good wedding, wasn't it?"….

~~~ O ~~~

"_MERLIN!"_

_The sound of Arthur bellowing brought his manservant running into the king's chambers. "What kept you?" But before Merlin had time to protest that it had barely taken him five seconds to get there, Arthur went on: "I'm going to need your help planning a wedding."_

"_Whose?"_

"_Mine, you idiot!"_

_Merlin paused, stared at him, and then asked tentatively, "Your wedding to…..?"_

"_You REALLY are being particular dense today, even by your own standards! To Guinevere, who else?"_

"_Well, now that you're asking, it wouldn't be the first time you've declared your intention to marry – there was Princess Mithian, Lady Vivian, and Sophia before that, and I haven't even mentioned – "_

_But before he could get the words 'Princess Elena' out of his mouth, he found himself abruptly cut short by a rather needled king._

"_Shut up, Merlin. We've got little enough time as it is, without you wasting it with your idiotic observations!"_

_Merlin opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it again. The action wasn't lost on Arthur: "… and keep it shut!"_

_Arthur's threat couldn't, however, stop a broad smile covering the whole of his servant's face, as the realisation of what was finally actually happening dawned on him, and keeping his mouth shut became something of an impossibility for Merlin._

_"You're doing the right thing Arthur – "_

_"I don't need you to tell me that!"_

_"And am I allowed to ask when this wedding is?"_

"_Tomorrow."_

"_TOMORROW!"_

"_I've waited far too long already to take Guinevere as my wife. I don't see the need to wait any longer."_

_Merlin gave Arthur a little grin and looked a little too pointedly over towards Arthur's rather large bed. _

"_Ow!" _

_Arthur had become very adept over the years at clipping Merlin round the ear with the minimum of effort but the maximum of effect. Merlin lifted his hand to his smarting ear and protested loudly and indignantly, "What was that for?"_

"_For whatever smutty little thought was going through your tiny mind!"_

_But Arthur's rebuke wasn't enough to keep the little grin from returning to Merlin's face. "It's not smutty – it's just what married people do -," adding completely unnecessarily, "- at least, that's what I've been told…," and then adding inadvisably, "And I assume that even though you're king and all that, underneath you're probably still a normal…OW!"_

"_Merlin, whatever may or may not happen in my bed –" he corrected himself, "__our__ bed – it's certainly no concern of yours, so this topic of conversation is over – NOW!"_

_But Merlin couldn't resist one final comment and added with yet another grin, "Well at least I'm not the one who's blushing!"_

_Arthur muttered back, "I'm not blushing!" which was not only a pathetically feeble denial but also a blatantly untrue one. But before Merlin could contradict him, he went on, "I swear, Merlin, if I didn't need your help right now you would be spending the next twelve hours in the stocks – although, come to think about it, that could still be the entertainment after the wedding!"_

"_So what do you want me to do, sire?"_

"_Camelot is only just beginning to recover from all the damage that Morgana and Helios did to it and its people. I will not have a big celebration whilst some are mourning their dead and others are struggling to make ends meet – it wouldn't be right. And I don't want to wed in the throne room. It has to be…. different this time"_

_Merlin knew it was Arthur's way of referring to the time when he and Gwen had so nearly wed before. And Merlin knew that he didn't want this wedding day to be spoiled by any reminders of why it didn't happen the last time. _

_He went on: "I want it to be in the clearing in the woods, by the stream…."_

_Merlin knew immediately where he meant without needing further clarification. It had become a special place for Arthur and Gwen. Although it had been where Uther had discovered them together, it was nevertheless still the first place where they had shared proper time together as a courting couple, rather than the snatched conversations in the corridors or in Arthur's rooms. _

_Arthur went on, "….but I want it to be decorated with flowers – white ones."_

_This time Merlin did need some clarification, "What sort?"_

_It rapidly became clear that this was a detail Arthur hadn't thought about. "Er, not too big…. Or too small. Sort of medium sized ones."_

"_Any particular type?" When Arthur looked at him blankly, Merlin added, "There's more than one variety."_

"_I know that," but it was said a little too defensively. Arthur decided to play safe in the end, concluding the discussion of flowers with, "I'll leave it up to you."_

_Arthur went on to describe who was to be invited. It would be a small, more intimate wedding. After Agravaine's death, Arthur had been left with no near relatives, and Gwen only had Elyan, who would escort her to Arthur. Leon and his family were to be invited, together with Gwaine and Percival. Arthur also told Merlin that he had already invited Tristan – he was, after all, one of the reasons Arthur had finally decided to marry Gwen, and even though he was still mourning Isolde, he'd gladly accepted. Arthur went on to say that Gaius would be there together with Geoffrey of Monmouth, who would conduct the wedding. In addition, Arthur named several courtiers and some of the palace staff who had been particularly close to Gwen, who would be coming not as servants, but as guests. After Arthur had finished rattling of the list, he then started describing how they would be walking down to the clearing, but broke off suddenly when he noticed that Merlin suddenly seemed to have gone unusually quiet and didn't seem to be giving him his full attention._

"_What's the matter?"_

"_Nothing…."_

"_Merlin! Come on – out with it!"_

_Merlin couldn't meet his eyes, suddenly seeming to become very interested in a particular spot on the floor. "It's just that…. well, I was wondering … what do you want me to be doing for you whilst the wedding is going on?"_

"_What do you mean, _whilst the wedding is….."_ – and then the penny suddenly dropped, and he sighed. "You'll __be__ at the wedding, you idiot!" _

_Merlin immediately looked up, with a broad smile on his face, as Arthur added, "Did I forget to mention that detail?"_

_And then Arthur went on, possibly against his own better judgment, "Neither Guinevere nor I could imagine you not being there – and I don't mean as our servant, but as our guest."_

_The smile on Merlin's face could not possibly have got any wider, and he allowed himself a moment to reflect on the fact that it was perhaps the nicest thing Arthur had ever said to him._

_Arthur let out an exasperated sigh: "Please tell me I'm not going to have to put up with you grinning inanely like that for the next thirty six hours!"_

_But from that moment on, Merlin threw himself whole-heartedly and enthusiastically into all the preparations. His first offering was, "I'll give your armour an extra special polish."_

"_I'm not going to be wearing chainmail or the rest of my armour."_

_When Merlin shot him a puzzled look, Arthur explained, "I don't want to be marrying Guinevere as the king of Camelot. I want Guinevere to see me first and foremost as her husband, rather than her king – and I want her to see herself as my equal." Arthur noticed that his words had met Merlin's approval – not that he needed it! "So you can wash and iron a white tunic for me – as long as it's not one with one of those holes that you're so fond of not noticing. And I'll just wear a leather jacket over it."_

"_Which one? – you have several…" asked Merlin, as he started to walk over to Arthur's wardrobe._

"_The brown one…"_

"_Yes, you have several of those as well!"_

_Merlin began throwing jackets one by one out of the cupboard. The first four were, however, rejected by Arthur:_

"_Too long."_

"_Too short."_

"_Too grubby." _

"_Makes me look fat."_

"_No, Arthur – it's too many sweetmeats that make you look fat." (Merlin was lucky to get away with a stinging looking rather than a stinging ear.)_

_The fifth jacket seemed to be to Arthur's liking however._

_But that simple achievement was just the start of a frantic day for Merlin, and when late into the night he finally slumped with his head down on his arms at the table opposite Gaius, all that Gaius got from him was a rather muffled but thinly veiled threat: "This wedding better go ahead tomorrow, or I might end up getting executed for treason rather than sorcery…"_

_When the day finally dawned (what felt to Merlin like a ridiculously small number of hours later), the hectic activity started all over again. Merlin had never seen Arthur so nervous but so deliriously happy at the same time. By the time Merlin finally got him down to where the wedding was to be held, Arthur could barely stand still in one place for more than a few moments. The clearing was in the end decked with garlands of white gillyflowers – Merlin having surreptitiously discovered from another servant that they were Gwen's favourite flower. Any nerves that Arthur may have had were, however, dispelled the moment he saw his bride – dressed not in the fine satin gown that she had been destined to wear the previous time, but in a simple white fitted cotton dress, adorned with lace around the three-quarter length sleeves, around the neckline and around the hem. She had made it herself several years earlier. A noble-woman had asked her to make a dress for her, but had quickly changed her mind as to what she wanted, but not before the pieces had been cut out from the white fabric and the lace bought. The woman hadn't particularly cared about what happened to the wasted material, so Gwen had kept it, and in her own time had altered it and fashioned it into a dress that had perfectly fitted her. It had been even before Arthur had really noticed her – or she him – and it had been put carefully away at the back of her cupboard… _just in case.

_Not that Arthur really noticed the details of her dress – his eyes rested only on the face of the woman he loved. A beautiful delicate gold pendant, holding a single pearl hung around her neck however – a present from Arthur earlier that day. Merlin had knocked on her door with a great big grin on his face and a beautifully carved box in his hand. There was a small gold dragon set in the centre of the carving on the top of the box, with an ornate letter G curving around and encircling the dragon. Gwen gasped when she saw it, and for one fleeting moment wondered how Arthur had managed to get it done in time, as he'd only asked her to marry him the previous day. And then, of course, it struck her – he'd had it made all those months earlier before Lancelot had arrived. _

"_Go on, open it" Merlin had coaxed, and that's when Gwen had gasped for the second time on seeing the delicate pendant. And Elyan had later hung it around her neck as she prepared to leave her little house for the last time, and walk down through Camelot and out to meet her groom._

_Elyan couldn't have looked more proud, walking at his sister's side. Unlike Arthur, he and the other knights were dressed in the full livery of Camelot, red cloaks moving slightly in the gentle breeze that blew through the trees. And when Guinevere came to stand by Arthur's side, there was finally nothing remaining to keep them apart. As the guests took their seats on benches that had been arranged in semi-circles, Geoffrey stepped forward to where the couple stood, and with a nod indicated for them to take each other's hands. _

_As Arthur's eyes were finally drawn away from Gwen's face down to her small hands, he did notice one detail on her dress, however – Gwen had, the previous evening, embroidered a single dragon in white silk thread in the centre of the bodice, but close to her heart as if to proclaim to everyone the identity of the one to whom her heart belonged._

_And so began the age-old ritual of hand-fasting, which joined man and woman together as husband and wife, regardless of whether they were farm-hand and serving-girl, or a king and his queen._

_Geoffrey looked around him at the assembled company: "Friends and citizens of Camelot, we are gathered here today to celebrate the ancient rite of hand-fasting, the union of Arthur Pendragon and Guinevere, daughter of Thomas."_

_The elderly courtier then looked at his king: "Is it your wish Arthur to become one with this woman?"_

_Arthur didn't take his eyes of Guinevere as he gave his answer in a strong and steady voice: "It is."_

"_Is it your wish Guinevere to become one with this man?"_

_And just as Arthur had done, Gwen spoke the words "It is," looking radiant as she said them._

_Geoffrey looked out again: "Do any say nay?" And this time every person remained silent._

_As the ceremony continued, their hands were bound together with the white band that symbolised their lifelong union. And when all the vows were finally completed, and the all the necessary words said, Arthur Pendragon finally wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her, as each and every guest cheered and clapped and showered the couple with more white flowers._

_Arthur had planned after the ceremony to simply walk back up through the streets of Camelot to the citadel – unannounced – still conscious of the scars that his city bore after its most recent harrowing by Morgana. But Merlin had other plans. Unbeknown to its king, the whole city had been informed of what was happening, and whilst Arthur was out of the city, bunting was strung across the streets, and every citizen was out, waiting expectantly for the king and his new wife. And as Arthur entered the lower town, the bells began to ring out and it was as if the whole city had suddenly started cheering, and flowers were thrown into the path of the newly-weds as they made their way up through the streets. Arthur had been right to be concerned for his people's welfare in difficult times, but he'd also been wrong about one thing – a celebration was exactly what the city needed. It gave them hope for the future, and a reason to rejoice as they began to rebuild their lives. And Agravaine had been wrong too. He'd tried to tell Arthur that the people didn't want a blacksmith's daughter as their queen, but the opposite was actually true. Having Guinevere as their prospective queen spoke to them of a new kind of kingdom, one where the wellbeing of its subjects didn't depend on rank or background, but where all were valued and their needs considered important. And, of course, they also loved Guinevere simply because she had won the heart of their king. _

_And as Arthur and Gwen walked up towards the citadel, both looking radiantly happy and touched by the response of the people, Arthur turned and looked over his shoulder, and fixed Merlin with a knowing look. Merlin shrugged his shoulders, as if to deny that he'd had anything to do with it all – but then he grinned, and Arthur smiled broadly back, and then turned to face the crowds again._

_Once back in the citadel in the dining hall, Arthur was amazed at the feast that had been laid out, despite the fact that the stores were meant to be depleted. In a whispered conversation, he grilled Merlin: "Where on earth has all this food come from?"_

"_Oh, here and there, you know….."_

"_No I don't know!"_

_Merlin relented: "It's been given Arthur – gifts from the people of Camelot."_

_Arthur looked uncomfortable. "It's not right when they have so little – "_

"_You try telling them that! They want to Arthur – and you honour them by humbly accepting their gifts."_

_And so the wine flowed and the laughter rang out for many hours, as Arthur and Guinevere celebrated their long-awaited wedding day with friends and loved ones. And then finally, in the middle of the evening, it was time for the young couple to depart. Arthur stood and thanked them, using for the first time the words 'my wife and I' with great relish, resulting in a loud cheer from all the guests, and finishing with the words, "And now it is time for us to take our leave. My wife and I – " (another cheer) "- thank you again for sharing this most special day with us, and we now bid you farewell and a good night."_

_And with that Arthur took Gwen's hand, and raised her to her feet, and the two of them walked from the room accompanied by the traditional loud banging on the table and rowdy cheers, and the odd bawdy but good-natured innuendo (of which Gwaine seemed to have an ample supply.) _

_And when the couple finally stood alone together for the first time in the royal chambers as husband and wife, they shared a long and lingering kiss. Arthur then looked down at the pendant, and fingered it: "I hope you liked it."_

"_It's beautiful, Arthur. Thank you. But I wish I'd had something to give you."_

_Arthur smiled: "Believe me, there's not much you can give a king that he hasn't already got!" But then he added gently, "Apart from one thing. You have given yourself to me on my wedding day, and that is the only gift I have ever wanted."_

_She smiled coyly, "And I give myself to you completely, Arthur," adding quietly, "I hope I please you."_

_He looked down at her and gently stroked her face, and then said the kindest thing possible: "And I you."_

_But then he went on, "At least you have a head start on me…"_

_She looked at him quizzically, and he leant forward and with a grin on his face whispered in her ear, "You've already seen me with no clothes on."_

_The memory of the bizarre scene when she and Gaius had saved Arthur from a painful end in a bath of acid (prepared by Merlin under the influence of the Fomorrah) flashed through her mind – she remembered him standing there stark naked, with a hastily snatched cushion strategically placed in an attempt to protect his dignity and his modesty, and the strange conversation that they had had, both pretending that this was a normal everyday occurrence. And the memory of it made Gwen laugh out loud, which had the desired effect of putting them both at their ease. And with that, Arthur suddenly and completely unexpectedly swept her off her feet and up into his arms, causing her to laugh even more, and with that he – for the first time – began carrying her towards the bed, which was adorned beautifully with garlands of gillyflowers._

_And in another part of the citadel another bed was being approached. Merlin had walked through Gaius's room barely acknowledging him, had almost mechanically pushed open his bedroom door, not bothering to close it behind him, and had collapsed face first onto the bed. Gaius wandered in after him. "Would you like some supper? It didn't look as if you had much to eat at the banquet with all the running around you were still doing." A muffled grunt emerged from the prone figure on the bed, which Gaius took to be a yes. But by the time he returned a few minutes later, there was a gentle – but once again muffled – snoring emerging from Merlin. Gaius smiled, put the bowl down and picked up Merlin's blanket and laid it over him, saying as he did so, "Well done, my boy – well done!"_

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin smiled and agreed, "Yeah, it was a good wedding." And with that, Merlin began pulling Arthur to his feet, as gently as he could. And as he did so, Arthur - still thinking of Guinevere - remembered the last conversation he'd had with her. He suddenly looked sideways at Merlin: "I'm sorry I called you a coward."

Merlin grinned back at him, "I'm sorry I cheated at dice!"


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note**_

_**Apologies that this has been so long in coming. I've been trying to finish this chapter for days. It's not the most action packed chapter, but a necessary one in my mind to bring some sort of explanation to another facet of Episode 13. **_

Chapter 11

Guinevere lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the city coming to life in the early morning. The night had been yet another troubled one and sleep had evaded her for several of the hours of darkness. Her restlessness was not made any easier by the fact that she was not used to lying in the large, imposing bed on her own. There had, of course, been the time he had left her in charge when he'd ridden to Ismere, and other odd nights when he'd been away, but this time was infinitely worse, not knowing where he was but knowing instead that he was wounded - and also who had wounded him. _There are those who believe that Arthur is destined to die by a Druid's hand. _Gaius' words had gone around and around in her head after he had returned with the news that Arthur had been injured, and eventually she had plucked up enough courage to ask him the question the answer to which she dreaded: _was it Mordred? _She'd asked him when the two of them were alone, and had looked him in the eye as she'd said the words. He knew she deserved the truth and so gave it to her, adding as he did so, _but Mordred then died at Arthur's hand_. She for her part had nodded and then choked out a hasty _thank you, _before turning and hurrying away to find privacy for her anguish, taking little comfort from the knowledge of the druid's demise.

But lying awake as the hours of the night slipped slowly by, her mind had also gone back again and again to the other question that had arisen in her mind: _when had Merlin arrived at the battle? She hadn't seen him since they'd left Camelot, but somehow he'd come to Camlann unseen and then had ended up with Arthur. _

And as she lay there still thinking about it again in the light of the new day, her mind finally made a connection.

_There had been some vital reason that Merlin hadn't accompanied them to Camlann – some reason that he'd been unable to tell them about. And yet Merlin always – ALWAYS – acted to help Arthur; his loyalty to his king and his friend was never, ever in question. And if he'd wanted to help him at Camlann, to help him beat Morgana, then maybe it had been him who had brought the sorcerer. That would explain why he hadn't told them where he was going. After all, Merlin knew what many didn't know – that Arthur wasn't completely closed to magic. He'd helped Arthur find the sorcerer to try to heal his father, and Merlin had led Arthur to the Dolma when she herself had needed freeing from Morgana's spell. It MUST surely have been him that had somehow known that they wouldn't have won the battle without the sorcerer and had gone to get him._

A knock on the door briefly interrupted her train of thought.

"Come!"

The door was pushed open, and a smiling face appeared around it.

"I've brought you some breakfast, my lady." Anna, a serving girl who was about the same age that Gwen had been when she'd started helping Morgana, closed the door behind her with a little nudge from her foot, as she carried the tray laden with sweet rolls and fruit towards the queen. Gwen had never been a big one for large amounts of meat first thing in the morning, and she never ceased to be amazed by her husband's ability to tuck into a large plate of practically any variety of dead animal when he'd been fast asleep not five minutes earlier. As Anna brought the tray over towards the bed, Gwen raised herself so she was leaning against the pillow, and forced a tired smile back. "No, that's fine – just set it down on the table, Anna. Thank you."

Anna obliged, but then paused before turning to leave, and asked slightly nervously. "You will eat something, my lady? You need to eat."

Gwen smiled another tired smile, but this time it wasn't forced. She was touched by the care that Anna showed for her well-being, forgetting that she would have said exactly the same sort of thing to Morgana back in the old days, had she been aware that her mistress had not been eating. "I'll try, I promise you – although it does rather look as if you've brought enough to feed a small army."

Anna gave a bashful little smile, and then gave a small curtsey before leaving the queen in peace once again.

Gwen sat up in bed, and began once again to turn the disjointed facts over in her mind.

_The sorcerer at the battle - he certainly matched the description of the old man who Arthur had met twice before and had told her about - the crazed old warlock who had been caught red-handed planting a poultice – a love charm – in Arthur's bed. But that had never made any sense - they'd both known that their love had had nothing at all to do with magic, and she knew that it had been Morgana who had been behind wanting to see her burned at the stake – it had only been the confession of the sorcerer (who had almost be burned instead of her) that had secured her release. It was almost as if the old man had done what he'd done simply to secure her release – but that was absurd! Why would a complete stranger do that? Arthur had said he'd called himself Dragoon the Great – but that wasn't what Morgana had called him. She'd heard her – they'd ALL heard her – scream his name across the battle-field: Emrys. _

And Gwen suddenly remembered she'd heard that name on Morgana's lips before. She threw back the covers of the bed almost absentmindedly, and pulled herself to the edge of her bed, as her mind searched through her memories. Her feet touched the ground, and she walked over to the end of the bed, where her dressing gown was neatly folded on top of the carved oak chest that sat there.

_What had Morgana said? It had been in the throne room – with Helios. She'd been there with Arthur and Merlin, and Tristan and Isolde as they'd all burst into the room to find Morgana sitting on the throne with the Southron at her side. What had she said? Not even Emrys can save you now. Yes, that was it!_

She pulled the thicker embroidered cotton gown over her night-dress, tied the cords at the front and walked slowly over to the table.

_It was as if Morgana thought that this Emrys was somehow used to saving Arthur – but that didn't make sense either! Arthur had only seen him once before at that stage and then it had been her that he'd saved._

She idly picked up a pear that she didn't really want and bit into it out of a sense of duty rather than hunger, still trying to fit together pieces that didn't seem to line up. But then a new thought occurred to her.

_What if he had been to Camelot before but had disguised himself? After all, Morgana had used an ageing charm to disguise herself in Camelot. What if this sorcerer had done the same? Maybe they HAD seen him around Camelot, but just never recognised him because he was in actual fact much younger. What if he HAD been protecting Arthur before now?_

But Gwen's thoughts came to what seemed like an insurmountable obstacle:_ But why would a sorcerer be helping Arthur?_

She took another bite of the pear as she stared into space, oblivious to everything but the questions that kept forming in her mind and the answers that were still so incomplete. Her mind went back once again to Camlann and to what she'd seen there. She might not know WHY a sorcerer – probably brought by Merlin - was helping Arthur, but what happened there was indisputable: he had been responsible for protecting Arthur on the battlefield and for single-handedly turning the course of the battle.

_Surely those were the actions of a friend, not a foe. _

_The actions of a friend_ – the phrase stopped her in her tracks and she found herself confronted by an idea that seemed utterly ridiculous, that couldn't possibly be true – but suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, another memory came to her mind…..

~~~ O ~~~

"_That's strange…" Gwen stared down at Arthur's sword lying on the table in their chambers, and picked it and started turning it over in her hand, looking closely at the hilt._

"_What's that, my love?" Arthur pushed back his chair, raised himself to his feet and started walking with curiosity over to his new wife._

"_The handle of the sword. I'd swear it's identical to one that my father once made – he said it was the best one he'd ever made. The rest of the sword is different, but the handle….. The binding, the metalwork, the decoration is identical!"_

"_Well, according to history….. no, scrub that – according to __Merlin's__ version of history, that sword has been embedded in rock for hundreds of years – well, until I somehow pulled it out." _

_He stood close behind her, grinning, and put his arms under hers and wrapped them around her waist and held her tight, kissing her on the top of her head._

"_So I heard!" Gwen smiled - she only wished that she had been there to see the sight that so many had seen: Arthur doing the seemingly impossible of pulling a sword out of a stone. Instead she'd been left sleeping with Tristan and Isolde whilst it had all been happening. She wriggled around in his grip to face him: "Tell me yourself – I'd like to hear it from you!" And with that she handed the sword over to him._

_Arthur stood and thought for a moment – the events had happened barely ten days earlier, and yet it already felt like a lifetime ago. _

"_Merlin woke me whilst you were all sleeping. He told me there was something I needed to see – and as he started leading me through the woods, he told me a story – he said it was a story that Gaius once told him. He started talking about how Bruta, the first king of Camelot brought peace between the five kingdoms. But he then went on to say that Bruta, when he was dying, was taken into the forest, and then – apparently with the last of his strength - thrust his sword in a rock, and only a true king of Camelot would ever be able to pull it free. Merlin said something about how it would be a test to prove the true lineage of a king if it were ever questioned…. "_

_Arthur paused and looked from the sword to Gwen, and grinned. "Or something like that. To be honest , I was convinced he was making all up. I'd never heard such a story before. I thought it was Merlin just being his usual idiotic self…."_

_Arthur paused, but this time the grin faded and his tone became quieter and more reverend as his gaze returned to the sword in his hand. "… at least that's what I thought until I saw the stone and this sword embedded deep in it. I'd never seen a sword like it. I was just staring at it, when suddenly Percival and Leon and many of the other knights arrived, together with some of the other townsfolk from Camelot. But Merlin wasn't surprised to see them there – he seemed to be expecting them. He said that HE was proving I was the people's leader and their king." Arthur let out another little grin. "I could have killed him! He was somehow expecting me to do the impossible and pull the sword out. All I could think was that I was going to be humiliated in front of forty or fifty of my subjects. But Merlin just smiled. He told me that I – and only I – could pull out the sword. I went over to the sword – I was terrified. I couldn't see how I was possibly going to do it."_

_Arthur paused again – he still found it hard to believe himself._

_Gwen stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm, encouraging him to continue._

"_As soon as I put my hand on the hilt I could tell that the sword was utterly fixed in the stone – it wouldn't move, even slightly. I tried pulling it with all my strength but nothing happened. All it seemed to be doing was confirming my worst fears. I felt utterly defeated. But then Merlin spoke again. He told me I was destined to be Albion's greatest king - and told me that nothing could stand in my way, not even the stone. I don't know what happened, but something began to stir in me. I grasped the sword with one hand and closed my eyes. Merlin told me to have faith. I began to think of my father and his father before him. I KNEW that my line could be traced back to Bruta. I also knew how I'd felt the first time the crown had been put on my head, how it felt as if I had finally become who I was destined to be. I tried as best I could to let those thoughts fill my mind. And when I pulled it again, it came out of the stone, as easily as a knife out of butter. I'd have sworn it was magic, but there was no sorcerer there – only the knight s and the people of Camelot…."_

_Arthur paused again, and grinned, "Oh, and Merlin, of course!"_

_Gwen may not have seen the events for herself, but she'd certainly seen the change in the Arthur when he'd returned. Gone was the hesitant, cowed royal – and in his place was a king who moved and spoke with a confidence and poise that had nothing to do with arrogance, and everything to do with a man who knew he was exactly where he should be – and on whose shoulders the weight of destiny rested like a well-fitting robe. She ran her fingers over the bindings once again, but then Arthur had what seemed to him like an inspired thought._

"_But if this sword is as famous as Merlin claims – and I have to admit, I've never in my life seen a finer blade or a more richly ornamented sword – then I guess it's possible that there may have been pictures of it. If your father wanted to make an exceptional sword, maybe he simply copied the handle of this one from a picture he'd seen once. After all, he was a black-smith – he would have noticed details like that."_

"_Maybe….. " Gwen paused for a moment, but then continued with perplexity in her voice. "But didn't Merlin give my father's sword to you? He said he wanted it for you – to save you, when you were going to fight the Black Knight."_

"_Merlin? Give me a sword?"_

"_Yes!"_

"_Well, if you remember, I didn't get to fight the knight in the end, and I think I'd remember if my servant who knows even less about swords than I do about cooking gave me a decent blade! You know what Merlin's like – he has a basic inability to put pretty much anything in its right place. He probably mislaid it or lost it or had it stolen from him and was then too mortified to tell you what he'd done with your father's best sword!"_

_Gwen thought for a moment, taking a step back as she did so, as Arthur had once again picked the sword up from the table and had begun to swing the blade slowly around in the air. "Maybe…."_

_The sword glinted in the light coming in through the window and at that moment, exactly the same thought went through the minds of both the king and the queen: they had never, ever seen a weapon so beautiful and so exquisite and so fit to be a sword of legend._

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin. It was always to do with Merlin.

And suddenly, pear still in hand, Gwen had a desire to make a visit to the one person in Camelot who might be able to give the answer to at least some of her questions. She called Anna back and within half an hour was washed and dressed and ready to visit the library.

"Come."

Gwen hadn't been sure if she would find Geoffrey of Monmouth amidst the dusty books that filled the shelves of Camelot's one and only library at that time in the morning. But her knock on the door was swiftly followed by the one word invitation from the deep voice that was so familiar.

Gwen pushed open the door, and it took Camelot's historian a few moments to look up from his book after she had walked in the room.

When he did finally look up, he was immediately mortified that he hadn't immediately risen to his feet when the queen had walked in.

"Forgive me, my lady. I did not realise it was you!"

Gwen smiled warmly back at the older man. "You had no reason to expect that you would be getting a visit from me. It is not often I find myself in need of a book – and I can't imagine that it's any different with Arthur."

Geoffrey paused to choose his words carefully. "Let's just say, my lady, that it's been a number of years since the king was a regular visitor within these walls."

"You were his tutor, weren't you?"

"Indeed. I regularly had the pleasure of his company when he was a young prince."

Gwen smiled knowingly. "Knowing Arthur, I can't think that you would have had an easy job!"

"Shall we say he wasn't the most natural scholar I've ever taught?"

Gwen let out a little laugh. "I imagine he spent most of his time wishing he was out on the tournament field."

"You may not be too far from the truth, my lady, but I do believe he may have learned a thing or two from me over the years, however, despite his more natural inclinations."

"Indeed! And I also have need of your knowledge and your books now."

Geoffrey walked around to the other side of the table. "How can I be of assistance, my lady?"

"I want to find out something from Camelot's earliest history."

"All the books we have on that are this way, your majesty," and with that he proceeded to lead her down the main corridor of the library.

Gwen continued, "I would like to see the fullest accounts you have of the life of King Bruta, please – particularly what happened at the end of his life."

Geoffrey suddenly stopped and looked round at the Queen. "I think, then, that I may be able to save you some effort. You want to know about the sword in the stone?"

Gwen looked surprised but the tone of her voice also betrayed the eagerness that she suddenly felt. "Yes, can you tell me about it?"

The two of them stood facing each other amidst the books that contained so much that was long forgotten. Geoffrey shook his head slightly and sighed. "I wish I could."

Gwen looked at him, utterly intrigued: "What do you mean?"

Once again Geoffrey paused, giving himself time to choose his words with as much tact as he could. "When I heard about the king pulling the sword from the stone, and the story that went with it, I searched every book that this library holds on the early history of Camelot and of Bruta, but I could not find one reference to him thrusting his sword into a stone. As far as I am aware, Bruta died in his bed. There is nothing to suggest that anything happened to his sword other than it being buried with him, as was and still is the custom with the kings of Camelot."

Gwen's brow furrowed slightly. "Are you sure? Could it be that the story that Gaius supposedly told Merlin was one that wasn't written down in any book? Gaius seems, after all, to know so much about many things."

Geoffrey seemed slightly hesitant, and Gwen had to encourage him to share what was on his mind.

"What it is? Speak freely please!"

"You are right, my lady, that Gaius knows many different things. There is no one in Camelot who knows so much about medicine – or indeed the ways in which magic has been used. But…." He hesitated again.

"Go on…."

"But when it comes to history …"

"You're the expert?" offered Gwen.

"Let's just say, I have made it my life's study."

"And you know nothing of any legend of a sword in a stone?"

"No, my lady."

"And yet you didn't mention it when it happened?"

"It would have been - " Geoffrey again searched for the right word: "- churlish. There seems to be, from what I was told, no doubt whatsoever that the king really did pull a sword out of stone in which it had somehow become embedded. But how and why that sword came to be there – and how your husband freed it – well, those things remain, to me at least, a mystery."

Gwen stood silently, mulling over these new pieces of information. Once again, it was Merlin who stood at the centre of the mystery. He had taken Arthur to the sword, he had somehow arranged for the witnesses to be there to see it, and he had somehow persuaded Arthur that he could pull the sword out of the stone. Gwen pulled herself out of her thoughts for a moment. "Thank you Geoffrey."

"I'm afraid I haven't been a great help, but if I have only saved you some time, I will consider that a service."

But as Gwen turned to go, Geoffrey added with a wry smile, "Maybe young Merlin just like tales of strange swords!"

Gwen froze, and turned back to face the elderly scholar. "Why do you say that?"

"I found him in the library several years ago – causing chaos as usual, dropping priceless books everywhere. Don't ask me how he got in. He claimed that the door was open, but I was ALWAYS very particularly about looking the door. When you treasure books as much as I do, well, you don't just leave your treasure chest lying open for all to pillage. Anyway , I found the young man searching through some of the oldest books. He said he was looking for something for Gaius. It was when the Black Knight challenged the knights of Camelot, and he said that Gaius thought he might be a wraith. Well, Gaius had already visited me about the knight – he wanted to confirm that the crest on the Black Knight's shield was that of Tristan Dubois, Ygraine's brother, who had been killed years earlier. It seemed on the one hand like a fantastical idea, and yet I knew that there was only one man who had used that particular device – and that was Arthur's uncle. Young Merlin said that he needed a weapon to kill something that was already dead, and I told him how some ancient fables told of swords that could kill the undead. He asked to hear one of those fables. He was so impatient! Like so many young people, if I may say. He could barely keep still whilst I searched through some of my oldest books….. "

Gwen began to feel a certain sympathy with Merlin, as she willed Geoffrey to continue and get to the point.

"Anyway, I then found the Chronicle of Beltain, and began to read about the great sword begotten in the dragon's breath. Young Merlin asked me to repeat what I'd said, and then, without so much as a by your leave, he was gone. I remember at the time thinking how strange it was, because, well…."

Gwen finished his sentence, "….. where was he going to find a dragon?"

"Precisely."

~~~ O ~~~

Gwen walked slowly towards the great hall. _Arthur may not have fought the Black Knight in the end, but somehow Uther had defeated the undead knight with the sword he wielded._ Gwen told herself that she needed somewhere she could be alone and think. She asked the guards standing on the doors to close them behind her, and then went over to fit quietly in one of the windows as the morning sun streamed into the large open space of the hall, at one end of which stood the two thrones which she and Arthur occupied.

_Merlin – it was all coming back to Merlin. He was the common link in every question and in every unexplained and unexpected piece of good fortune._

It had seemed like a ridiculous idea when it had first entered her head, but now the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense, and explain the previously inexplicable.

_Why had Merlin left his master when he lay dying from the wound of the Questing Beast? And hadn't Arthur suddenly miraculously recovered after his return? The whirlwind that defeated the bandits at Ealdor – Will had owned up to it, but Merlin had been standing at his side. The poultice that had healed her own father – hadn't Merlin apparently admitted to sorcery to steer the suspicion away from her? Merlin had been the one who knew how the enchantment on Arthur could be broken when he was fighting Olaf. She knew – because Arthur had once admitted it to her – that Merlin and Gwaine had been the only reason he had returned alive from the Perilous Lands. And then Merlin had been the one to pushed himself in the Dorocha's path to save Arthur – and yet he had been the only one to ever have survived their touch. Why had the lamia reacted in the way it had done to Merlin, as if he were different in some way from the other men? How had Arthur survived the poisoning by the supposedly lethal Henbane? _

The questions kept coming, and she found herself every time coming back to the same seemingly implausible answer – Merlin: Merlin who was always at Arthur's side and was and always had been since his arrival in Camelot, Arthur's truest friend. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly all fell into place, fitting perfectly and seamlessly together, and the person they revealed was the seemingly simple and clumsy servant but whose love and loyalty to Arthur were without equal. And suddenly it all seemed so blindingly obvious that she couldn't believe that she hadn't guessed the truth before – and she was sure that there was one person who would be able to confirm it for her.

~~~ O ~~~

Gwen turned around when she heard the sound of the door opening, to face the one whose footsteps echoed across the hall.

"You called for me, my lady?"

Gwen smiled at Camelot's oldest and most faithful servant. "I want to thank you Gaius."

The elderly physician looked slightly perplexed. "What for?"

"Unmasking Eira – I shall ever be in your debt." Gwen paused, and then added, "And Merlin's. Was it he that found Arthur?"

Gaius nodded, "He's a good servant."

Gwen smiled. "He's always been there are Arthur's side…." But there was something in the way that the queen said the words, that left Gaius suspecting that there was something more coming.

"Indeed."

Gwen stepped slowly and purposefully towards to him. "The sorcerer in the battle – you knew who he was…."

"Yes," replied Gaius in a non-committal tone.

And Gwen, with her heart beating fast within her, finally voiced the question that she knew would either confirm or deny the answer to the mystery that had perplexed her so greatly. "Do I know him?"

Gaius paused, knowing the magnitude of what he was being asked.

"Please, Gauis – answer me honestly."

And with a single word, Gaius finally shared the secret he had kept for so long. "Yes."

Gwen's expression turned into one of wonder and joy – and Gaius knew that all was well.

"He'll take good care of Arthur."

Gwen smiled, "Yes, I'm sure he will." And then she added what she truly felt in her heart: "I'm pleased." And a new hope stirred within her for her husband.

Gaius waited a moment, and then nodded to excuse himself and turned to go, leaving the queen to ponder in the morning sunshine the partnership of Arthur and Merlin, which had turned out in the end to be one of opposites but equals - and also Camelot's greatest and most incredible secret.

_**Author's note**_

_**The next chapter will be back to Arthur and Merlin, with more action and another flashback to the building of the kingdom they're meant to have built! And it will be a while, but hey – it's going to get drafted on a Greek Island in the sun! **____** And come August, I should have LOTS more time, all being well!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's note**_

_**Apologies for the delay – blame a holiday on a Greek island! Anyway, this chapter is longer than intended because of a longer than anticipated flashback at the end. It's not the most action packed flashback, but I REALLY think it's required to make more sense of what is said later. Hope you enjoy it anyway. And a lot more was written on the beaches – just needs to be typed up (sun, sand and laptops don't really go together). Probably no more updates though for a couple of weeks.**_

Chapter 12

The raven flew in through the window, through which the sun was filtering, piercing the gloom of the overgrown ruin. The fluttering of its wings and the _caw_ it let out as it came to rest on the ancient stone caused Morgana to turn away from the men with whom she was consulting and walk over to the bird with a sense of anticipation, wondering what news it brought of her enemies in Camelot. The bird allowed the witch to remove the small rolled up scroll of parchment that had been tied to its leg, and as she carefully smoothed it out flat, her heart beating fast, a smile of satisfaction spread across her face as she read the hastily written words on the small square: _The king is wounded, and is being taken to Brinived by Merlin. The two of them ride alone. _

Her next move was finally clear to her: _she would hunt them down and kill them both – Emrys may have powerful magic, but she was a high priestess of the old religion. _And that knowledge made her feel invincible.

~~~ O ~~~

And far away, the person by whom the note was supposedly written walked out slowly to face the hangman's noose under the impassionate eyes of the queen. There could only ever be one punishment for the sort of treason that had betrayed not only the king but the whole of Camelot to their most dangerous adversary. The courtyard was filled with the red of both the knights' cloaks and the guards' livery, and townsfolk mingled among the soldiers awaiting the grisly spectacle. And two others also watched in silence from above, through an open window in the walls of citadel. Percival laid his hand on Gwaine's shoulder as Eira was led up to the steps of the gallows to the awaiting noose, conscious of the feelings the other had had for the betrayer – but Gwaine knew where the real blame lay. And as the wooden block on which she stood was kicked away, leaving Eira's lifeless body swinging gently at the end of the rope, Gwaine spoke, still with his eyes fixed on the platform in the middle of the square: "You know what you said you'd do if you ever found Morgana?"

Percival turned and stared at the other knight, who laid out his plan with just one more sentence: "We've a good idea where she'll be heading."

And within the half hour, the two knights were riding out with as much speed as they could coax from their steeds, riding in the direction of Brinived.

~~~ O ~~~

Meanwhile, heading in the opposite direction, Merlin and Arthur had entered into a large forest, whose tall trees were spaced far enough apart to allow a good amount of light to filter down between their leaves. They'd made reasonable progress during the morning – until, that is, Merlin suddenly heard Arthur calling out to him weakly from behind. He reined in his horse, leapt off and was at Arthur's side in not much more than a few heartbeats, but before Merlin could ask what was wrong, Arthur uttered just four words: "I don't feel well." And Merlin knew from the colour he'd gone, that he wasn't talking about his wound.

"Come on – I'll catch you, " said Merlin, as Arthur leaned forward on the horse, slipped his left foot out of the stirrup and began to slide that leg slowly over the back of the horse. Gravity did the rest of him, and true to his word, Merlin was there to break his fall if not exactly catch him.

The inelegant dismount that left Arthur closer to being on all fours that standing, did at least mean that he was near to the ground as his stomach rejected the breakfast Merlin had prepared for him some hours earlier. Merlin remembered enough of Gaius's tuition to know that it had nothing to do with the food itself and everything to do with the constant pain that Arthur was in. Merlin knelt down beside his friend and placed his hand on his shoulder, staying there with him until there was nothing left for his stomach to expel.

"Is that it?" asked Merlin.

Arthur replied, head still down, with a wordless nod, and not for the first time on the journey, Merlin would have gladly swapped places with Arthur and borne his pain and discomfort. As Merlin began pull him as carefully as he could to his feet, he said, "I'll fetch you some water – we can rest here for a little while." Arthur gave another pained nod to acknowledge Merlin's words, and together they stumbled over to the nearly horizontal trunk of a fallen tree. Merlin, with Arthur's arm wrapped around his shoulder, sat both of them down on the trunk and gently extricated Arthur's arm and lowered it to his side. But as he went to stand, he felt Arthur's hand suddenly upon his arm, silently asking him to stay seated beside him.

"What is it Arthur?"

And when Arthur answered, he finally raised his head to look at Merlin, asking quietly as he did, "How did you know it would be Mordred?"

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but the truth was that Arthur had – in his more lucid moments – been turning unknowns over in his mind during their ride that morning, and he'd remembered Merlin's words from two days previously, about knowing that it was Mordred he had to stop. Merlin paused before answering – he thought of Kilgharrah's words to him all those years earlier:

_"Once before I warned you of the druid boy. It is his destiny to bring about Arthur's doom."_

_And he thought of the words of the prophecy brought to him by Finna:_

_"Let loose the hounds of war. Let the dread fire of the last priestess reign down from angry skies. For brother will slaughter brother. For friend will murder friend. As the great horn sounds, a cold dawn at Camlann. The prophets do not lie. There Arthur will meet his end, upon that mighty plain." _

_But Merlin wasn't about to tell Arthur of prophecies that spoke of his death, so he chose another explanation._

"When we were on our way to Ismere, and we came across that village that had been destroyed, I… I heard the voice of someone calling me. I followed the voice and went into a cave."

Merlin looked steadfastly ahead of him, not wanting to meet Arthur's eyes.

"That's where you found the old man, the druid – you were upset by his death, weren't you?" Arthur spoke the words slowly but deliberately as he cast his own mind back to that day.

Merlin continued, rather than answer Arthur's question: "He… he spoke to me about you. He was a Vates, a seer, and he showed me a vision… I saw a battlefield….. the sky was red like blood and there was a terrible war – bodies were lying everywhere. I heard the sounds of fighting, the cries of men dying." Merlin paused and took a deep breath: "And then I saw Mordred walking across the battlefield, surrounded by flames. And then…. then I saw you, Arthur. You saw Mordred and stood there staring at him." Merlin's voice dropped until it wasn't much more than a whisper. "When he drew his sword against you, you blocked his blow. Then I watched as… as Mordred thrust his sword into you. And when he drew the sword out again, you fell to your knees before him."

Merlin fell silent, and after a moment Arthur asked in a quiet voice, "And then…..?"

"And then you walked into the cave and found me there."

Arthur remembered the look of distress and horror that he'd seen on Merlin's face – he'd thought it was Merlin grieving for the dead druid, but Arthur suddenly realised with a shock that his friend's pain and anguish had been for him.

But Merlin hadn't finished what he wanted to say. "I tried to warn you – but it didn't make any difference. And I knew later from another prophecy that it would be at Camlann that Mordred would strike you down – but I knew I couldn't stop you..." Merlin's voice became a whisper once again. "Even if you believed me, and even if you knew what was coming, it wouldn't stop you..." Merlin's voice trailed off completely, and he looked away suddenly, and Arthur watched as his servant wiped a sleeve across his face. And Arthur suddenly felt that he didn't deserve the faithful love and service that Merlin had given him.

Merlin suddenly rose to his feet and, again without looking at his companion, said simply, "I'll fetch the water." He left Arthur on the tree trunk and walked over to the horses, pulling out from the saddle-bag the water skin he had filled that morning. He glanced back at Arthur but saw, with a sudden anxiety, that he had slumped forward. He ran back with the water, saying as he did so, "Arthur – you need to hold on."

Once again he sat beside him and took hold of his arm, "One more day," but was suddenly frightened by the double meaning of those words – it was not only how long it would take them to get to Avalon – it was also all the time Arthur had left…. if they were lucky. As he pulled him upright, he repeated "one more day," in an attempt to encourage him to keep going. But Merlin couldn't escape what he could see clearly in front of him: Arthur was weakening by the hour and finding their journey increasingly hard.

Merlin drew a damp cloth across his brow and face to try to cool him slightly, studying him carefully as he did so. At first he seemed barely conscious, oblivious to Merlin and his actions and with exhaustion written over his face, but then –despite still appearing dazed – he seemed to become slightly more alert. Without looking at him, as Merlin began to take the stopper out of the water skin, Arthur asked in a quiet voice, "Why did you never tell me?"

Merlin looked at him intently, and started, "I wanted to but….," and then paused.

Arthur turned himself slightly towards Merlin, but still seemed in a daze as he asked, "What?"

And with the hint of a smile Merlin answered the question: "You'd have chopped my head off."

He put the water skin to Arthur's lips and raised it, so that he could quench his thirst, and when he'd drunk all he wanted, Arthur let the water skin down again so he could speak, adding more thoughtfully, "I'm not sure what I'd have done."

And still looking intently at the king, Merlin added, "And I didn't want to put you in that position."

Arthur turned his head to face Merlin properly, as if he'd suddenly been shaken from his stupor, and asked with a surprised tone in his quiet and weary voice, "That's what worried you?"

Merlin turned his eyes slightly away from Arthur's as he formed his words with thought and feeling: "Some men are born to plough fields." He then raised his eyes to look directly at his friend. "Some live to be great physicians, others….." and he added with a smile, "to be great kings. Me…. I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that." And the pride showed clearly on his face and in his voice. "And I wouldn't change a thing."

Arthur looked at Merlin and marvelled, and in his heart there was an ever growing and profound gratitude at having such a loyal and gifted servant – and not a small amount of amazement that a powerful sorcerer should willingly put his gifts at the service of a friend, a friend who had rejected for so long the magic that was so much a part of who Merlin was. But suddenly it was Merlin's turn to cast his mind back, as his own words about those born to be great kings lingered in his consciousness…..

~~~ O ~~~

"_I would never call you fat, Arthur!" protested Merlin._

_Arthur pushed the empty plate away from him, the solitary chicken bone being the only evidence of the ample serving that had graced the plate only a short while earlier. "Well, that's a lie for a start!"_

_Gwen's long pearl earrings danced from side to side as she put her head back and laughed as the two men started sparring at the meal table – yet again._

"_I was merely saying…" Merlin slowed his words as he desperately racked his brain for some way of redeeming a phrase that was clearly a less than subtle reference to Arthur's weight._

_Arthur leant forward on his arms that were by now crossed on the table, "Yes, I'm waiting…."_

"…_that….."_

"_Yes…."_

_But a knock on the door saved Merlin from whatever punishment may have been meted out on him by Arthur for implying – again – that he was getting fat._

"_Come!"_

_The door opened at the king's command, and Merlin stood back from the table as Sir Leon entered, a sense of urgency in his stride and on his face. "I'm sorry to disturb your majesties – "_

"_What is it, Leon?" asked Arthur as he folded his napkin, sensing that their mealtime was probably about to be brought to an abrupt end._

_The knight stood and faced the king, "It's Lot, sire. He's dead."_

_Arthur was on his feet immediately - as if to be ready for action - knowing the significance of the death of the king whose lands bordered those of Camelot. "How? When?"_

"_We've only just received word, sire. It was a few days ago apparently – thrown from his horse if the reports are to be believed."_

"_An accident?" asked Gwen, with surprise in her voice, wanting to clarify the knight's words._

"_As far as we can tell."_

_Arthur suddenly seemed to be lost in thought, and began to pace slowly around the table, as he turned over in his mind the implications of the death of the last neighbouring kingdom that was still hostile to Camelot._

_Gwen turned her head towards her husband: "He has two sons, doesn't he?"_

_Arthur nodded, "Gaheris and Gareth. Twins in fact, but Gaheris was the first born, so he will be king."_

"_What's he like?"_

_Gwen's question sent Arthur's mind back to his meeting with Lot and his two sons just a few years earlier. It had been shortly after Lot had seized most of Cenred's lands after his death. Uther had still been king, but incapacitated following Morgana's betrayal. Arthur had asked for a meeting on neutral territory, seeking peace, but had ultimately found none. And Lot had been a thorn in Camelot's side ever since – always hostile but never declaring outright war. Arthur began, "Gareth is like his father: impetuous, proud, stubborn. But Gaheris…..? Gaheris is different. He's quieter than his brother, and not as forceful, but I'm certain he wants something different – and this could be the once chance we have to bring it about."_

_Merlin watched his friend – and had faith in his judgment, whatever it would be. But it was Gwen who asked the obvious question: "So what do you mean to do, Arthur?"_

_The king finally stopped pacing and looked up at the other three. "I will call a meeting of the Round Table and propose that we send a delegation – that we visit Gaheris on his own territory. I will speak to him, and – if he will accept it – make a treaty and offer our support."_

_Leon hesitated, but then spoke: "Is that wise, sire? Lot may be dead, but there are many in his court who are no friends of Camelot. They may view such a delegation so soon after Lot's death with deep suspicion and use it as an excuse to accuse us of hostile intentions, even of spying. And being on their territory makes us vulnerable."_

_Any knight under Uther's rule would not have dared to question the king's judgment so freely, but Arthur had invited a different approach, and he welcomed the opinions of his knights, whether they were sitting at the Round Table or not._

"_True, Leon – but if Gaheris is less forceful than members of his council, the longer we leave it, the more they are likely to be able to impose their ways on him. We have to take risks if we are going to make progress – and making ourselves vulnerable may be more likely to win us the trust of Gaheris. Besides, they know that our kingdom is far stronger than theirs at the moment, and I do not think for a moment they would be so foolish as to take advantage of our vulnerability and risk bringing the wrath of Camelot down on themselves."_

_Silence fell on the room for some moments, as each contemplated what was being proposed. But there was one person in the room who more than any other understood the significance of what Arthur wanted to attempt – and that was Merlin. As Arthur's eyes moved between the other three, they met those of his servant, and as they met, Merlin uttered a single word: "Albion."_

_Arthur nodded, and Merlin continued: "Peace between the five kingdoms and beyond."_

_And when Arthur spoke again he somehow looked taller, as if drawn up into a calling and purpose that were far greater and far wider than himself or Camelot alone, and there was a faraway look in his eyes: "Not even in the time of Bruta will there have been so much of the land at peace if Gaheris can be won over."_

_And a silence that seemed imbued with the weight of destiny descended on the room as queen, knight and servant beheld King Arthur. _

_It was only a matter of a week later that the delegation from Camelot drew near to the gates of the large town that had been Cenred's and then Lot's and was now the seat of power for the newest king in the lands. The forests and moors that had been their surroundings for most of the journey had given way to more gently rolling hills, many of which were farmed, and Merlin had noted that the lands of Gaheris's kingdom were not so very different from those of Camelot. Not all was similar however. There seemed to be a greater fearfulness about the small villages they had passed near – and a greater poverty, which Merlin had guessed was the result of a succession of kings who cared more about their aggrandisement and their political power than the needs of the common people._

_Those same characteristics of the land were in the town as they passed through the gates, and Merlin surveyed the harsh outline of the stone citadel that was at the centre of the town – it had none of Camelot's beauty about it, but was nevertheless well situated with an unbroken view over most of the surrounding countryside. He rode at Arthur's side at the head of Camelot's twenty-strong delegation, consisting of many of Arthur's most trusted knights and advisors, although he had left Gwen back at Camelot, conscious of not wanting to place both of them at once in a position of vulnerability. It was, of course, not normal for a servant to ride beside a king, but theirs was not a normal relationship and no one in Camelot thought it strange any more that Merlin should be at Arthur's side. As the walls loomed large, Merlin glanced sideways: "Nervous?"_

_Arthur shook his head, "No, but I'm not complacent either." And after a pause he added quietly, "Let's just hope my plan works."_

_Merlin looked at Arthur sharply, and whispered "You have a plan?" and there was more than a hint of alarm in his voice as he spoke._

_Arthur smiled, amused at his response: "Well, more of an idea…"_

"_And were you thinking of letting me in on this idea?" hissed Merlin._

_Arthur laughed: "No! Not yet, at least. To be honest, it's only just come to me!"_

_The alarmed look that persisted on Merlin's face softened Arthur's resolve, however, and he sighed, knowing that he was likely to be badgered by Merlin until he had given him at least something more. And once again he spoke quietly so that others couldn't hear: "Later - I'll tell you when we get to my room."_

_Their arrival wasn't, of course, a surprise. A carefully worded letter bearing the official seal of Camelot had been sent the day after they had learned of Lot's death, in which Arthur offered his condolences and spoke of wishing to greet the new king, but giving little away of his intentions. They had received a civil but equally carefully worded reply, not exactly welcoming their visit but neither refusing it. And so when news of the delegation's imminent arrival was given to the king, he and Gareth and a sizeable number of both his council and his soldiers were waiting for them. The castle had no main courtyard like that of Camelot, although it did boast an imposing flight of dark stone steps that led up to the main entrance. The first thing Merlin noticed was that although Gaheris and Gareth were twins, they were far from identical – an, if anything, Gareth was the more imposing of the two. Although he stood probably half a hand-breadth shorter than his marginally older brother, he was blessed with good looks and broad-shouldered, and certainly had an air about him – although Merlin would probably have called it arrogance. Gaheris, on the other hand, was taller but thinner, and was the darker of the two – and certainly didn't look like a natural soldier. There was something about him, however, that Merlin immediately warmed to, which only seemed to be strengthened by their first encounter._

_Arthur and the party from Camelot dismounted, and Arthur handed the reins of his horse to Merlin as he stepped forward to greet the king and his brother. Merlin's impression of Lot's first-born son was that he was slightly in awe of Arthur, but trying not to show it – and it was true that Arthur's reputation was by now known throughout the five kingdoms and beyond. And certainly the party from Camelot in their red livery, with their golden dragons shining in the late afternoon sun, was an impressive sight. Their red and gold mingled with the emerald green of their hosts' cloaks, which were all emblazoned with the silver-grey hawk that had been Lot's emblem and which had now passed to his sons. _

_Gaheris stepped forward to clasp Arthur's hand, saying as he did, "You and your men are most welcome, Arthur," and the warmth of his greeting seemed almost incongruous given the hostility of his father towards Camelot. _

_But Arthur immediately deferred to him: "Your majesty," bowing his head slightly both to acknowledge and greet the new king. He then continued, "Thank you for welcoming us at such short notice, and may I offer once again to you and your brother – " he glanced sideways and nodded towards Gareth, "- my condolences on the loss of your father," adding with sincerity in his voice, "I know how hard that can be." _

_And with that the welcomes and introductions continued, ending with an invitation to the banquet that night, with Merlin watching each person carefully , endeavouring to weigh up whether friend or foe and, as always, mindful for Arthur's safety._

_Merlin stood in the middle of the room that was to be Arthur's. The green and grey of the kingdom's colours dominated the furnishings of the modest rather than large room. A rather imposing four-poster bed did, however, dominate the centre of one of the stone walls, and shields and stags heads adorned the stonework around the room. Merlin had briefly wondered on walking in whether the room had belonged to Gaheris when he was prince rather than king._

"_And your plan?"_

_Merlin had scarcely put down Arthur's bags when the question was out of his mouth – though it came out somewhat breathlessly after the exertion of dragging the heavy bags up the stairs by himself._

_Arthur gave something approaching an exasperated sigh at the concerned expression on his servant's face. "Honestly, Merlin, I sometimes wonder if you ever think that I'm capable of having a single good idea of my own!"_

"_No….," but there was a noticeable hesitancy in Merlin's one word response that made Arthur cast his eyes to heaven and shake his head in mock despair._

_Merlin wisely didn't wait for the inevitable disparaging response before continuing: "So, what is it then?"_

"_Well, when you've finished unpacking my bags I might tell you."_

_Merlin immediately protested, "I can unpack and listen at the same time!" throwing himself into opening Arthur's bags and emptying their contents onto the bed in a rather haphazard manner, as if to prove his point._

"_Given, Merlin, your normal difficulty in completing seemingly simple tasks – NOT ON THE FLOOR! – I doubt that very much! But seeing as you're so keen to find out…" And with that, Arthur outlined what turned out to be a simple but astute (even by Merlin's standards) idea._

_And when Arthur had finished explaining, he fixed Merlin with a stare: "So…?"_

_A look of incomprehension settled on Merlin's face: "So what?"_

_Arthur rolled his eyes, "And you accuse me of being the slow one!" And he then continued in a voice fairly heavily laden with sarcasm: "So…. does it meet with my servant's approval? - though heaven knows why I'm asking!"_

_Merlin's incomprehension melted into an impish grin, which was sufficient to give Arthur his answer._

_Arthur shook his head and sighed in mock exasperation, but he did allow a little smile to form on his face as he did so. "Just make sure I get to talk to Gaheris on my own – and make sure the others know that too."_

_The banquet may not have been as lavish as those normally served in Camelot, but it was welcome after the long journey. Roasted chicken and pork were laid out on long wooden platters, with vegetables and tomatoes around the meat more for decoration than as a significant part of the meal, with baskets full of fresh bread liberally scattered around the tables, and deep bowls of pears poached in red wine waiting to be served after the meat. The atmosphere was polite rather than relaxed or convivial, and it was clear than neither of the two courts entirely trusted the other. The seating spoke of that suspicion, with those dressed in red and gold on one side of the square horseshoe, and those bearing green and grey on the other. The only point of immediate contact between the two courts was Gaheris and Arthur on the head table, with Leon on Arthur's left and Gareth on the other king's right._

_There were two short speeches from both kings, each wishing the good health of the other and their kingdom, but it was as the meal was drawing to its close that Arthur made his move, taking the opportunity given by Gareth being engaged in conversation by the person on his other side. "Gaheris, would you do me the honour of walking with me?"_

_Gaheris nodded, but looked around him somewhat anxiously, clearly conscious of what others of his court would think. Arthur added quietly, with a smile, "Have two of your guards follow us – I wouldn't want any of your court thinking I intended you harm." _

_As Arthur rose to his feet, his eyes met those of Merlin and an unspoken understanding passed between them. As the two kings left the table together, every eye was suddenly upon them, and Gareth began to get up, clearly thinking that this was an encounter that shouldn't happen without him also being party to it. But as he rose, he must have knocked his plate and cup – at least, that was what he thought – as their contents suddenly ended up spilled down his front. But no one, of course, saw the flash of Merlin's eyes before he turned his head away, looking the picture of innocence. Another member of their council who had risen suddenly to his feet found that he was suddenly and inexplicably taken by a bout of dizziness – courtesy of another glance from Merlin – and had to sit down again within seconds. Gwaine and Percival were also on their feet but chose to linger by the doorway having a good natured disagreement after the kings had left, effectively causing something of an obstruction for any who chose to follow._

_The long empty corridor echoed slightly to the footsteps of the two kings walking together, the guards Gaheris had summoned following at a discreet distance._

"_Thank you for your willingness to talk privately with me," began Arthur, and Gaheris's face flushed slightly, feeling he had in a small way pleased Arthur Pendragon. Much as he was conscious of his overwhelming sense of responsibility towards his own kingdom, Gaheris nevertheless desired good relations with the strongest kingdom in the land, if only that could be done in a way that his people could accept – not least those on the council. He had never been sure of his father's motives for maintaining such a hostility towards Camelot, and in his view, it had never done their kingdom any real good, and had – if anything – only served to be a drain on their limited resources._

_Gaheris turned and smiled at Arthur who, although younger than him, had already had a number of years of ruling Camelot, and he replied with a simple, "I'm glad you came."_

"_I hope you can believe me when I say that Camelot has no desire for anything except peace between our kingdoms. I do not seek to extend its borders and wish only for my people – and yours – to be able to live out their lives without fear of violence or war. I suspect most of our subjects care little for the politics of kings and courts, and simply desire to be able to work the land and provide for their families in safety."_

_The two men paused by a square window set into the dark stone, and together looked out over the town, silhouetted in moonlight._

_Gaheris nodded in agreement, "I share your desires, Arthur."_

"_And your brother?"_

_Gaheris smiled: "His appearance may be deceptive. He has lived his life knowing that he is unlikely to be king, and he enjoys the freedom that gives him to pursue his hunting and fighting."_

_Arthur interjected, "Then I hope to hunt alongside him one day when I have earned his trust."_

_The other continued, "He likes to know what is going on, but is happy to leave the weightier matters to me. I doubt if he cares too much what happens, as long as it doesn't disrupt his pursuits too much!"_

_Arthur smiled, but then became more serious: "And the other members of your council…." He paused, knowing that he had to tread carefully, and turned to face Gaheris to allow the other king to meet his gaze: "Can I ask you – would they make a treaty with Camelot difficult?"_

_Gaheris looked him in the eye, as if weighing up whether to trust him with an honest response. He had heard how Arthur had not only made peace with Annis and Odin, but had shown himself to be true to his word in his dealings with others – and he decided to speak the truth to the young king who faced him. "I fear that my father has left a legacy of suspicion and a number who hold influence in the council are hungry for power. I don't trust them – and fear what they might do to get their own way and keep my father's hostilities alive."_

"_How many do they number?"_

_Gaheris paused as if mentally naming them to himself: "Five, maybe half a dozen at most – but they stand together."_

_Arthur smiled, almost mischievously, "Then give them to me!"_

_Gaheris' brow furrowed in puzzlement at the words, and looked enquiringly at Arthur as the two continued walking along the still deserted corridor, "Meaning….?"_

"_I would like to propose an exchange….."_

"_Go on…."_

"_Give me those six men for a month – maybe two – and in return I will leave you six of my best men – good men, whom I trust and whom I know will support you and share with you some of the ways of Camelot, should you desire or think it helpful."_

_Gaheris was, by this time, intrigued: "And what of the six of my men who will go with you?"_

_Arthur smiled, "At best they will learn to trust Camelot when they see we mean them and you and your kingdom only good. They may learn a different way."_

"_And at worst?" asked Gaheris._

"_At worst it will keep them out of your way as you establish __your__ way of ruling, __your__ kingship."_

_Gaheris raised his eyebrows and gave a little smile at the unusual proposition and the prospects it held._

_Arthur looked steadily at the new king: "I am, of course, asking you to trust what I say. You have only my word."_

"_I believe I have a lot more than that Arthur." Arthur looked at him quizzically. "I have your reputation."_

_Arthur broke into a small grin, "Don't believe everything you hear!"_

_Gaheris smiled, "Still, I wouldn't want to be your enemy."_

"_I don't seek to make them."_

_Gaheris paused and stopped walking, to fix Arthur with his gaze: "I envy your kingdom – peace within and without."_

"_Camelot is not without its enemies, but I see no reason why other kingdoms may not share its peace."_

_Gaheris turned to the window they were standing beside and looked out over his lands, houses here and there showing lamplight through their windows in the dark. He pondered the idea, and the thought of being freed from the critical scrutiny of some of the most powerful and oldest members of his council made it suddenly feel as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He turned to Arthur, a broad smile on his face, and held out his hand towards him: "I think I would like to accept your proposition!"_

_And as Arthur stood before Merlin later, waiting for his servant to help him remove his armour, Merlin paused. His heart soared - __this__ was what Kilgharrah had foretold. __This__ was Albion being established by the king whom destiny had chosen for the task. And at that moment Merlin felt that nothing could stand in their way. He chose to forget the prophecies that spoke of doom. He dared to believe the Morgana was an enemy who could be defeated. And a large grin suddenly spread across his face. "You've done it, Arthur! You've united the kingdoms!" And Merlin slept that night with dreams of Albion._

~~~ O ~~~

And the memories of those days strengthened Merlin's resolve to find healing for the king through whom Albion had been born.

"Ready?"

Arthur nodded wearily, and once again Merlin laid Arthur's arm around his shoulders and pulled him to his feet, ready for the next stage of their journey to Avalon.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's note**_

_**Bit of a shorter chapter this time, and pretty much just following the episode, but it does have a flashback to the Round Table. Things will be hotting up in chapter 14 tho'!**_

Chapter 13

Drops of rain filtered down through the trees into the narrow gully through which Morgana and her men were walking purposefully, unaware that they were being silently watched by two knights of Camelot. Morgana paused, causing the six men walking behind her to stop and wait for her command which came as she turned her head in their direction: "Position look-outs for the king's approach."

As the men separated and spread out, one was dispatched noiselessly by Percival, whilst a second turned too late to do anything about Gwaine falling upon him with his sword. The rest were easily vanquished by the two knights fighting side by side, the Saxons being no match for the pair of trained swordsmen. With the Saxons all lying dead, there was only one person left to kill. When Gwaine found Morgana, she was walking slowly with her back to him, but turned her head on hearing his approach, an indulgent smile forming on her face as she realised the identity of the man behind her. She turned around, but before a word was out of her mouth, Percival had leapt behind her and grabbed her, and did not hesitate to run her through with his sword. She let out a scream and he released her, fully expecting her to crumple to the ground in front on him. But neither of the knights were prepared for what happened next.

She spun round and one thrust from her hand sent Percival flying backwards through the air, and a second thrust a split-second later did the same to Gwaine. As Morgana stood over the unconscious knight whose idea it had been to pursue her, she smiled cruelly down at him: "Did you really think you could outwit me?" And she already knew what she was going to do next.

~~~ O ~~~

Many miles away, Merlin held up his hand as he suddenly and silently reined his horse to a halt, indicating for Arthur to do likewise. The cause soon became apparent: there, a little way ahead of them through the trees, smoke was rising from a fire. Arthur asked in a low voice, "Saxons?"

Merlin lowered his eyes and as he did so, they flashed gold, and instantly his eyes could scan everything that lay ahead through the trees, to the place where the fire lay smouldering - those who had lit it nowhere to be seen.

Merlin shook his head slightly, "They're long gone."

Arthur stared at him, and when he spoke, he seemed almost in awe of Merlin: "How do you know?"

"I can….. see the path ahead."

Arthur shook his head almost imperceptibly, "So you're not an idiot. That was another lie?"

Merlin turned to him and grinned, "No, just another part of my charms."

And a small smile formed on Arthur's face in response.

Merlin clicked his mouth and urged his mount forward again, but his horse had barely begun to move when he heard Arthur's voice behind him. "Maybe I'll give you a seat on the Round Table after all."

And both men's thoughts drifted back to the same incident…

~~~ O ~~~

_Merlin ran his fingers over the table once more, the dark wood completely smooth under his touch. The golden dragon set into the centre of the large circle of wood contrasted sharply with it, and shone brightly as the light of the sun streamed in through the windows of the great hall. Merlin glanced up at Arthur, who stood –arms folded – surveying the table, a look of pride and satisfaction on his face. Although Gwen had seen Arthur's plans for the Round Table, Merlin was the first to see it completed alongside Arthur, as they went together to inspect it after word had been sent that the king's orders had been carried out in full. _

_Merlin had never seen a piece of craftsmanship like it, and smiled as he remembered the ancient round table that he had sat at with Arthur, Gwen, Gaius and all of Arthur's most trusted knights. _

"_So where __am__ I going to sit then?" asked Merlin, a little grin on his face._

"_Which part of 'That's never going to happen' did you not understand?"_

"_So you're not going to give me a seat?" replied Merlin, with as much mock hurt and surprise in his voice as he could muster._

"_No, Merlin – and you heard me perfectly well the first time I told you that." Arthur finally tore his eyes away from the table, and fixed them on Merlin: "__You__ are going to stand over __there__ – " the king unfolded his arms and pointed to a spot by the wood-panelled walls: "- behind me."_

_But Merlin wasn't ready to give up his good-natured wrangling with Arthur, and immediately began protesting, "But you're always telling me how wise I am!"_

"_No, Merlin – I'm always telling you you're an idiot. On rare occasions, however, I have admitted that you sometimes say something sensible – "_

"_Rare occasions?!" And barely pausing to take a breath, Merlin started to list the times that Arthur had taken his advice. He didn't, however, get very far before finding himself cut off by Arthur._

"_Shut up, Merlin."_

_Arthur then decided to take a different tack. "I can hardly have one of my servants sitting at the table, can I?"_

"_Gaius is your servant too!"_

"_But that's different – he has an official position in the court."_

"_What, and 'Personal Slave to King Arthur' isn't an official position?"_

_Arthur let out a sigh of exasperation. "Besides, there __is__ another reason why I'm not going to give you a seat on the Round Table."_

"_And what's that?"_

"_Because I already get your opinion on everything anyway, whether I want it or not."_

"_That's harsh!"_

_But both Merlin and Arthur had small smiles playing on their faces as they both turned to admire once again the table that stood before them, the table that would become a legend in its own right._

~~~ O ~~~

As Gwaine slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he became aware of was the fact he couldn't move, and the second thing was that Morgana was standing directly in front of him.

"Tell me where the king is." Morgana looked with disdain down at the knight, who found himself completely at her mercy, his arms stretched out on either side, bound tightly to nearby trees. But mercy was not a quality that Morgana had any intention of showing towards her prisoner. Although both knights were in her power, it was Gwaine who had shown her most contempt previously, and on whom she would now have her revenge.

And Gwaine's contempt hadn't changed. He fixed her with a look of defiance: "I'd rather die."

But there was a mocking complacency in her voice as she answered him: "You shall have your wish once you've told me." Morgana crouched down so she could be on his level, as she produced a small black box, and lifted its lid. "Not even you, Sir Knight, can resist the charms of the nathair."

And as she named the hideous beast born of dark magic, it raised its snake-like head above the box and let out a hiss.

Gwaine began to pull at the cords binding him, instinctively pulling back from the creature of nightmares. He remembered hearing Elyan's screams as Morgana had tortured him with the nathair, when she had previously also sought Arthur's whereabouts. And he knew that although Elyan would also have rather died than divulge the information about Arthur, he had under the snake's power told the witch all she had wanted to know. And the last coherent thought that went through Gwaine's head before she sent the tiny monster into his body was how foolish he'd been and how he was now about to betray his king.

So when Percival came round a short while later, it was to the sound of Gwaine's screams ringing in his ears. As had been the case with his fellow knight, he also found himself suspended between two trees by thick ropes. The sound of the screams spurred the giant into action, and he summoned every ounce of strength he had and began pulling on the ropes. And as he heard Gwaine's pained cry of "STOP!" Percival redoubled his efforts, the veins on his neck standing out from the strain. As he pulled on the ropes, he added his own scream, "BREAK!" – and they did. He fell onto his knees just as another cry of agony resounded through the trees, propelling the knight forward and into action.

~~~ O ~~~

Utterly oblivious to the price that was being paid by his knights far away, Arthur continued to urge his horse forward through the forest, despite the pain that seemed to consume his whole being. Once again he stopped his horse in response to Merlin's raised hand – but he also heard what Merlin had heard: the sounds of voices shouting and horses whinnying some distance away. After a moment's thought, Merlin pulled his horse round to the right towards some more dense undergrowth, saying as he did so, "In there."

Arthur followed obediently, and soon the two of them had dismounted and stood hiding amongst the trees, as the sound of horses' hooves got louder. Merlin moved so that he could get a better view of those who were approaching, and as he did so, he saw the hoof marks left in the soft ground by their own horses.

Merlin's eyes glowed: "Andslyht."

And at the warlock's command, leaves lying on the ground began to blow across the tracks as Arthur looked on, once again struggling to take in the power wielded by his servant.

Another flash from Merlin's eyes, and trees some distance away from them began to bend and move, attracting the attention of the Saxons.

"This way!" And with that, the three men on horseback began to gallop in the opposite direction.

Arthur stared at the dark haired young man standing near him, "You've done this before….."

His tone sounded to Merlin like another accusation, but when Arthur spoke again, there was a very different tone to his voice. For he remembered the words that Gaius had once spoken to him: _Some day you will realise just how much others have done for you. _ And Arthur finally knew without a shadow of a doubt that Gaius had been referring to Merlin. And not for the first time, Arthur couldn't understand why Merlin had served him in so many unseen ways so selflessly. "All these years, Merlin… and you never once sought any credit."

"That's not why I do it." Merlin turned back to face Arthur's gaze. "Come on." And with that Merlin once again wrapped the right arm of the king around his shoulder and raised him from where he was propped up against a tree. And once again, Arthur grimaced from the pain, but allowed himself to be almost dragged back to where they had hidden the horses.

~~~ O ~~~

Gwaine was still hanging between the trees but was silent and unmoving when Percival found him – and the witch was nowhere to be seen. The gentle giant dropped down onto his knees before his friend and, with fear in his heart, lifted the knight's head. Gwaine's eyes were still open but he looked like a shadow of himself, and with all the strength he could muster, he choked out the words, "She's riding for Avalon."

Percival continued to hold Gwaine's head in his hands, horrified at what he saw before him, "Gwaine….."

But all the dying knight could do was look into his friend's eyes and whisper, "I've failed….."

"No, you haven't!" Percival shook his head as he said the words, but then added with a panicked tone, "Gwaine!" as the knight's eyes closed and his life left him.

Grief swept over Percival like a bitter wave, and he rested his forehead on that of his brother in arms. But even as he grieved he vowed that he would do all in his power to stop the witch and protect his king – or at the very least warn him. He knew time was short and that he didn't have time to bury his friend, so he simply retrieved his sword, cut Gwaine down and laid him gently on the ground, covering him with the knight's cloak which had been left with the horses. _If he lived he would return and bear his friend back to Camelot, but for now, he had to act to protect the king he hoped was still living._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As the light of the second day began to fade and as Merlin kept his horse at a slow walk through the forest, he glanced back as he often did to check on Arthur – but this time the sight he saw caused his chest to suddenly tighten so that he could barely breathe. Although Arthur's horse was still moving forwards, the king was slumped forward in the saddle.

"Arthur!" Merlin forced the cry out, but it evoked no discernible response from his friend, so he immediately pulled his horse to a stop and leapt off and raced over to Arthur. As he pushed him back into more of an upright position, it was abundantly clear to him that although Arthur was still conscious – just – his condition had deteriorated. He could barely open his eyes, and there was a light sheen of sweat covering his face. And when Arthur did speak, all he was able to murmur was, "I can't go on."

Merlin looked at him with a growing alarm, and said with an urgency in his voice, "There's not far to go. We need to reach the lake before dawn!"

But Arthur, his eyes no longer open, just shook his head and said in a barely audible voice, "No, Merlin. No"

Panic was beginning to rise in Merlin's heart but he knew he no option but to give Arthur his way. "Alright. We rest for an hour."

Arthur managed to briefly open his eyes, but then almost immediately closed them again.

Merlin had never before heard Arthur say he couldn't do something or admit defeat, but if there was any doubt in Merlin's mind about the sincerity of Arthur's words, it was dispelled by the tone of his friend's voice and by a single glance at him. The truth was plain to see: Arthur was utterly exhausted and had reached the point where his body simply couldn't take any more – at least not without some respite. Merlin remembered how it had felt when he had been shot with a crossbow and had had to move his body away from danger and up into a tower for refuge. That had been sheer agony and had taken every ounce of will-power he had. And yet here he was dragging Arthur with his deeper and more serious wound for mile after mile and hour after hour, inflicting something akin to a long drawn out torture on his friend.

When it came to getting Arthur down from his horse, he wasn't even able to swing his own leg over the horse this time, and it required Merlin to release his foot from the stirrup and then gently, but awkwardly, push it back over the horse, running round rapidly to the other side of the horse before Arthur slid off. But when Arthur was on the ground and safely in Merlin's arms, he spoke quietly once again: "Just give me a minute….," The act of dismounting had left him on the verge of passing out, and he stood resting his whole weight on Merlin with his forehead on his shoulder, his breath coming in rapid and ragged gasps. And Merlin held him and waited for the latest spasm of pain to subside.

And suddenly Merlin felt guilty – he had always mocked Arthur for his love of his soft mattress and "fluffy pillows" (as Merlin like to call them). And yet suddenly a huge part of him wanted nothing more than for Arthur to be lying in his bed back in Camelot, surrounded by those he cared for, receiving the best care that Gaius could give, with his wife at his side, holding his hand in hers and whispering her words of love in his ear. But instead, here they were in the open, with little food, no medicine for Arthur, and the discomforts of make-shift camps and the cold night air. And Merlin had to tell himself once again it was the only way to find healing for Arthur.

But as these thoughts were going through Merlin's head, they were interrupted. With his head still resting against Merlin, Arthur suddenly whispered, "Can you help me?"

Merlin glanced down at him, puzzled – "What do you need me to do, Arthur?"

The words came slowly and in short bursts, but they came: "Could you… could you say those words again… the ones … to make…. the pain not so bad….?"

And Merlin realised that Arthur was asking for his magic – and that he had been aware of the magic that had flowed from him almost instinctively the previous day. So with his left arm around Arthur, supporting his entire weight, Merlin laid his right hand lightly over the wound and repeated the ancient words he had spoken before, not knowing whether they would have any effect but desperately hoping for his friend's sake that they would. Nothing seemed to happen immediately, but after a few moments, Arthur's breathing became steadier. Although the pain had not left him, Arthur had felt the warmth that Merlin's words brought, and felt his stabbing, acute pain subside into a dull, throbbing ache. And if Merlin had been able to see Arthur's face at that moment, he would have seen the edges of Arthur's mouth turn up into a little smile. He did, however, hear just one word from his friend: "Clever…."

Merlin looked down at the head still resting on his shoulder, and for a moment his anxiety lifted – and with it, his eyebrows: "That's high praise!"

Arthur didn't answer, but his smile broadened slightly.

Merlin allowed Arthur a few moments more to recover, and the two men stood together in silence as Arthur clung to Merlin, knowing that it was only his servant's strength that was keeping him upright. Although the difference in status between them had never been a barrier to their friendship, a lifetime of being set apart from others had always made Arthur hesitant about any of the more physical signs of friendship that he often observed between others. Despite their years of being as close as brothers, Arthur had only once embraced Merlin, and that when he had feared him dead. But ever since Camlann, he had had no choice but to let himself be carried, supported and held by Merlin, and although he had resisted it at first – not only because of his sense of hurt, but also because of his deep seated reticence – he now felt not only comfortable with it, but also strangely comforted by it, with the quiet knowledge that the close contact between them somehow mirrored the meeting of their souls that both had always felt but rarely acknowledged out loud. And after the few moments had passed, Merlin said – as he had done earlier in the day – "Ready?"

But even as the men slowly walked towards the nearby tree against which Merlin would lay Arthur, Morgana was closing in on them – and the shard from Mordred's sword was moving ever closer to Arthur's heart.

As Merlin began to lay Arthur down as gently as he could, Arthur murmured almost dreamily, "We make a good team, don't we? You and me…"

Merlin smiled, saying rather breathlessly as a result of the exertion, "Yeah, I kept telling you that, but you never seemed to listen."

A memory suddenly stirred in Arthur' mind, of a time when the two of them had stood together as Camelot faced the onslaught from Cenred's army, spurred on by Morgana, and Merlin had been prattling on and he had told him to be quiet.

"_I __am__ just trying to help…."_

"_Well, you're not!"_

"_I know you don't mean that – you're just worried. But you don't need to be. Look what we've got."_

"_What?"_

"_You and….. me."_

"_Merlin – what exactly are __you__ going to do?"_

"_I'm going to be at your side, as I always am… protecting you."_

A smile came to Arthur's face as he slowly repeated the words, "_Always at my side – protecting me_. That's what you said."

Merlin grinned, as he began trying to make Arthur as comfortable as possible against the tree, remembering their exchange. "Yeah, and what did you say then? – _God help me!"_

Arthur looked thoughtful for a moment, and then suddenly quietly added, "Maybe he did," acknowledging that there may have been powers greater than those the Disir served at work in his fortunes.

Merlin pushed the hair out of Arthur's eyes, more out of affection than necessity. "I'll make a fire for some warmth."

But as Merlin busied himself, collecting firewood amongst the trees of the forest, a fear greater than he had ever known began to grow in his heart. Nothing could stop the sands of time running through the hourglass, and there were now far fewer grains left above the constriction than had already flowed through it. Merlin knew the truth but could barely bring himself to acknowledge it: Arthur had only hours left to live, and their progress towards Avalon was getting ever slower. The fire hastily constructed and ignited with a glance from Merlin's eyes gave both heat and light – but precious little of either. Merlin felt the chill of the night and glanced anxiously around him – quietly cursing the densely packed trees that would make it impossible for Kilgharrah to land if he did decide to call upon him.

His attention snapped back to Arthur, and he once again fetched the water skin from the horse's saddle bag and, crouching down beside the king, lifted it to his lips to let him drink. As he replaced the stopper, he looked anxiously around him, but suddenly looked down as he heard his name: "Merlin…"

Arthur not only looked pale but also dazed, as he tried to go on, "…. Whatever happens….." but found himself cut off by Merlin.

"SShh – don't talk."

Arthur's head lolled slightly, as he attempted to face his friend more directly. "I'm the king, Merlin, you can't tell me what to do."

A little grin spread across Merlin's face, happy to hear the hint of Arthur's usual good-natured belligerence in his words – and Merlin's words parried Arthur's, as if the two of them were sparring as they always did, back in the royal chambers of Camelot: "I always have. I'm not going to change now."

With what seemed like a monumental effort, Arthur carefully and slowly strung together another sentence, as if each word was a precious pearl on a string. And he looked directly at Merlin as he spoke the words: "I don't want you to change…. I want you… to always… be you."

He broke off again, head drooping as if exhausted by the effort of speaking the words. And his words were precious to Merlin. Had they been spoken at any other time, they would have been music in his ears and would have made his heart sing, because it was Arthur finally accepting him for who he was – including his magic – and not accepting him grudgingly or reluctantly, but gladly and willingly. But his heart couldn't sing – not when it was choked by a cold fear that seemed to grow by the hour. But Arthur hadn't finished. He seemed to be struggling to speak, and raised a finger, as if to compel Merlin to be silent and to listen to what he was about to say. After a few moments as he gathered his strength, his words suddenly came out in a rush: "I'm sorry about how I treated you."

But his eyes then closed again, and his head then dropped to one side, as if he had completed a wearying task and now needed to rest.

Merlin tried to rouse him, "Hey," suddenly fearful that Arthur was fading and feeling that he had to keep Arthur with him: "Does that mean you're going to give me a day off?"

Merlin spoke with a lightness in his voice that he did not feel, but it had the desired effect of drawing Arthur back, and his eyes opened again: "Two…."

"That's generous," smiled Merlin, but he'd lost Arthur again almost as soon as his words had left his mouth, and he watched as Arthur slumped forward again. Merlin put his hand to Arthur's neck and fear once again gripped him as he felt the weakness of Arthur's pulse. His hand lingered against Arthur's face, "Get some sleep." But Arthur had already slipped too far away from consciousness to hear his words. And once again, with eyes that were dangerously close to shedding tears, Merlin looked around him as night closed in, desperation and a sense of helplessness growing within his heart – and he would have worried even more had he known that every passing hour not only brought Arthur's death closer - but also Morgana's arrival.

Merlin could not, of course, allow himself to sleep – he kept vigil and watched over Arthur, pacing back and forth, also following closely through the trees the slow passage of the moon across the night sky, judging – as years of practice had taught him to – when an hour had passed. And he sprang into action as soon as that moment came. He crouched down and took his friend by the shoulders, shaking him gently: "Arthur. We need to get moving."

The young king's eyes opened, but then immediately closed again, as his head dropped down once more.

Merlin shook him again, this time more forcibly and his voice louder, as he tried to rouse him a second time: "Arthur!" The king jerked back awake again. "Arthur we've wasted enough time."

And without waiting for a further response, Merlin wrapped his arms tightly around his friend, and began hauling him to him feet, and all that Arthur was able to contribute was his dead weight, and was then barely able, when standing, to put one foot in front of the other. But when they had taken the few steps to get them to the horse who stood quietly chewing the odd lush plant it could find within its reach, Arthur took one look up at the horse and then leant his whole body against the saddle, shook his head and whispered, "I can't, Merlin. I can't."

The words confirmed what Merlin had feared: Arthur was utterly devoid of the strength that was needed to raise himself into the saddle, even with Merlin pushing and hauling him.

"Arthur – do you trust me?"

Arthur raised his head very slightly to give a wordless nod, and then rested his head against the smooth leather of the saddle once more. Merlin had many times hurled men back through the air with just one small movement of his hands. But now something far gentler and more delicate was needed. And as Merlin stretched our his arms towards his friend, Arthur felt himself being slowly lifted up into the air, without even a touch from Merlin, and it was only when he was at the height of the horse, that he felt his servant reach up and guide his right leg up and over the horse so that he found himself securely in the saddle. He slumped forwards and took the reins in his hands, as he felt Merlin again guiding his feet into the stirrups. And Merlin allowed himself a little smile when he heard the slightly muffled words, "You could have thought of that earlier…."

~~~ O ~~~

Percival dismounted and knelt in the dark and examined the soft ground. There had been no sign of Morgana's tracks for almost a quarter hour, and as he looked around him at the dark shadows, with only intermittent moonlight to give him enough sight to examine the ground, he finally had to admit to himself that his task of pursuing Morgana was a futile one. He was in unfamiliar territory, with no clear idea of how to reach Avalon – directions to Brinived were all that he and Gwaine had supposed would be necessary for their quest. He knew he would now have to admit defeat and return to Camelot to report their folly – and the price they had paid for it.

The knight knew enough of the moon and its flight across the earth to guess the direction of Camelot. And he rode, rode as fast as his steed would take him until he found himself just before dawn riding – still at full speed – through the gates of Camelot and across the drawbridge and into the citadel, as the city was still sleeping. As guards raced forwards to meet him, he leapt from his horse, his only words of explanation being, "I must see the queen – now," adding as an after-thought, "And fetch Gaius and Sir Leon."

Percival stood quietly in the council chambers, his heart heavy as the grief of the loss of his fellow knight began to weigh upon him, not to mention the enormity of the consequences of their ill-conceived actions. Leon was first to arrive – he only allowed himself to sleep fully dressed for action as they still waited for news of the king. He took one look at the knight and asked in a terse voice, "Percival?"

But Percival shook his head bitterly, and wouldn't speak until the queen arrived, which she did moments later with Gaius, a dressing gown hastily wrapped around her night clothes.

The huge figure who dwarfed the petite queen immediately dropped to his knees as she entered the room, and wouldn't lift his head. A sudden dread rose in Gwen's heart and, as her footsteps echoed in the empty room as she approached the knight, she commanded in a slightly trembling voice, "Rise, Sir Percival – what has happened? Tell me!"

But the knight again shook his head, and remained on his knees, his eyes still cast to the ground. And when he finally spoke, it was simply and truthfully.

"Your majesty, Sir Gwaine and I have acted with the greatest of folly." He paused, and Gwen didn't trust herself to speak, so she waited for him to explain the meaning of the words, although her hand was by now clasped to her heart.

"We rode for Brinived, thinking to apprehend Morgana and kill her. We found her as expected, and killed those with her who were laying an ambush for the king. But…."

It was at this point that Percival faltered and finally looked up at the queen, his face drawn and full of pain. And his expression only served to increase the dread in her heart. Gwen forced herself to say the words she knew she must: "Go on…"

"We were no match for her. I ran her through with my sword, but it was as if she had not been touched by it at all. She overpowered us both… She tortured Gwaine." Large tears began to roll down the gently knight's grimy face. "My lady – she knows Merlin is taking the king to Avalon. She rides to them."

Gwen let out a horrified gasp and put her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle it, as Percival let his head fall again in shame. "I tried to follow, but I lost the trail." He paused and then spoke once again in the silence that hung in the dark room, lit only by the candles around the four stone walls. "Any punishment you wish is entirely justified, your majesty."

Leon looked at him sharply, an anger burning within him: "Why is Gwaine not with you?"

"He did not survive the torture."

Much as Gwen was horrified by the knights' actions, the loss of another of Arthur's best knights and closest friends and one for whom she had great affection caused her to let out another pained gasp, and she whispered, "Will this bloodshed never end?" But although her heart was now even more fearful for her husband, it was not indifferent to the pain of others and a compassion welled up within her as she saw the obvious distress and grief of the knight still kneeling before her, and she laid her hand gently on Percival's shoulder. And when she spoke again, it was with mercy and wisdom. "We have lost too many friends. I would not lose another one. Your actions were the height of folly given the foe we face, but – " she paused and he lifted his eyes to his queen. "- I know you also did what you believed to be right and just and that you both acted from good and loyal hearts. What is done is done. Rise, Sir Percival."

And as the knight finally rose to his feet, Leon spoke: "What is to be done, my lady. Should a number of us ride towards Avalon now?"

It was Gaius, who had been listening quietly to everything that had been said, who finally spoke to answer the knight's question. "Time is not on our side, but even if it were, force of numbers with mortal blades would not turn her back. But even two with the right blade may yet defeat her."

Although Percival and Leon looked in confusion at the physician, Gwen - with her recent revelations still fresh in her mind - caught his meaning, and turned to him with a sudden comprehension in her eyes: "Arthur's sword…" Gaius nodded sagely.

And with that the queen turned back to Percival, a defiant look now in her eyes. "We will not lose faith! You may yet, Sir Percival, have sent our enemy towards her doom," not realising that her words echoed those the Cailleach had spoken some years before.

And in the east, the darkness was beginning to yield to the first hint of the light of a new day.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

_**Author's note**_

_**This was a tough one to write for obviously reasons. I hope I have done it justice!**_

After their moonlit ride had recommenced, Merlin had ridden alongside Arthur whenever the path through the forest had allowed, so that he could keep as close a watch on the king as possible. He had tried to engage Arthur in conversation as much as he could to keep him from slipping back into unconsciousness, and it was then that Arthur had asked slowly and falteringly, "How many times Merlin? How many times have you saved my life?"- to which his servant had replied with a grin, "I lost count."

And when Arthur said, "Tell me….." Merlin had begun to recount parts of their shared story of which Arthur was unaware. The hours of the night had slipped by, with Merlin never being sure how much Arthur was taking in, as he increasingly seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. And all the while Merlin had been acutely aware that the race against time was nearing its end and its final outcome was far from clear.

As the first grey light of the new day began to lie like a thin ribbon along the horizon, Merlin could see that Arthur needed some further respite before the final few miles to Avalon. As Merlin dragged him towards a log against which he could rest for a short while, a gap between the trees finally appeared, revealing a sight that made Merlin's heart soar. For there below them, silhouetted in the cold, pale light was the ancient Isle of Avalon and the tower which had stood on it for hundreds of years, the early morning mist lying low on the lake that surrounded it.

Merlin spoke with excitement in his voice as he lay the king back against the log, "Avalon – we'll get there!"

He judged it to be no much more than two or three miles away, but the light of the dawn was, with every heartbeat, slowly but inexorably driving the darkness out of the sky and ushering in a third day which didn't belong to Arthur. But even as fresh hope stirred in Merlin's heart, the sound of his laboured breathing was suddenly joined by the sound of startled horses, and as they began to whinny, Merlin jumped to his feet. "Wooahh!" But his attempts to calm the beasts were futile and their hooves started pounding the ground as they broke into a frenzied gallop.

"No!" Merlin's frantic cry was ignored by the horses, but answered by a person who was the source of the animals' terror - and the voice was sickeningly familiar.

"Hello Emrys."

The sound of Morgana's words sent a sudden chill through Merlin's body, but as he spun round to face the the witch a nod from her head sent him flying backwards through the air and into a sudden darkness as his body hit the ground.

Arthur, with the little strength he had left and with his heat pounding, reached his right arm across to his left side for the sword that wasn't there.

Morgana, still dressed from head to toe in the black of which she was so fond, moved slowly and purposefully towards the king. "What a joy it is to see you, Arthur!"

Her words rang out with triumph, and as Arthur lay on the ground unable to move or to defend himself, she stopped by his side and stood over him, a haughty smile on her face as she looked down on him with disdain.

Arthur's right arm fell limply back at his side, a look of utter defeat on his face, and having nothing with which to respond to her.

"Look at you. Not so tall and mighty now." And as the words left her mouth, Morgana crouched down beside him. "You may have won the battle, but you've lost the war."

Arthur turned his face towards her, despair in his eyes. He had begun to hope that the Disir's prophecy of his doom would be confounded: _he had accepted Merlin's magic, he had changed. Avalon was near and all was possible. _ But those hopes now felt as if they were being suddenly and cruelly shattered, to make his end even more bitter. And Morgana was enjoying every moment of her longed for revenge. With great relish and a cruel smile on her face, she went on. "You're going to die by Mordred's hand." She almost said it laughingly, hardly believing the change of fortunes that had suddenly been granted to her.

Arthur, for his part, gazed at her in hopeless bewilderment – he simply couldn't comprehend the hatred that flowed from her like a putrid black river. And as he had done before, he wondered how his crime could have been so great as to merit this cruel ending.

But Morgana hadn't finished her taunting. She was like a cat with a mouse between its paws – she intended to have sport with her prey and ensure that Arthur's death was as pain-filled and as anguished as she could manage. _After all, she still had her pet nathair._

She continued, spurred on by the expression on Arthur's face, "But don't worry, dear brother, I won't let you die alone. I will stay and watch over you until the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood."

Such was the relish with which she said the words that she was oblivious to the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath behind her; oblivious, that is, until she heard a voice that she recognised all too well.

"No -" Morgana spun round to face Merlin who was standing with Arthur's sword in his hand, and she rose to her feet as he continued: " - the time for all this bloodshed is over. I blame myself for what you've become…. But this has to end."

She stood defiantly, "I am a high priestess. No mortal blade can kill me."

But her feeling of that nothing could her was misplaced: the words were barely out of her mouth when Merlin thrust the sword deep into her body.

Both she and Arthur drew in sudden breaths, but for very different reasons. Arthur looked on as Morgana gasped and began to collapse before Merlin, who looked as her dispassionately as he spelled out for his foe her error and her doom: "This is no mortal blade. Like yours, it was forged in a dragon's breath."

And with that, he did to Morgana what Arthur had done to Mordred with the same sword, jerking it up through her body, and then lowering her to the ground as she drew her final breath. He pulled the sword out of her with one swift movement, and watched as she shuddered for a few moments.

"Goodbye Morgana." And those words were the last ones she heard before she became still.

And Arthur lay quietly, staring at the sister he had once loved so dearly, feeling sadness for her life but not for her death.

As Merlin once more wrapped Arthur's arm around his neck to raise him, Arthur gazed up at his friend, with a smile of wonder on his face: "You've brought peace at last….."

But Merlin simply pulled him to his feet, "Come on."

And with that he began almost dragging Arthur's weary body towards the place where it could find healing. Every step felt like a monumental effort to Arthur, and he put every last vestige of strength he had into putting one foot in front of the other, his sword hanging limply from his left hand and trailing along the ground as they went.

As they began to make it out onto a gently sloping grassy clearing, Merlin repeated his words, "Come on." But after only a few more steps, Arthur's weight suddenly shifted onto him completely, and he came to a stop.

Merlin with desperation in his voice urged him to keep going: "We have to make it to the lake."

But as Arthur's legs finally gave way beneath him, he knew that he had no strength left in him to take him any further and he knew that it was all over. He collapsed, taking Merlin down with him as he fell, and Merlin began desperately struggling to raise Arthur again, breathing heavily from the exertion of pushing him up, as Arthur lay almost pinning him to the ground.

But Arthur gasped out with a pained expression on his face, "Not without the horses. We can't, it's too late. It's too late."

He laid his arm over the one that was wrapped around him, and went on: "All your magic, Merlin, and you can't save my life. " The words were not said unkindly but were stating what Arthur saw as a simple and inescapable truth – he was going to die.

But Merlin was not about to give in and accept his words, and continued trying to force him upwards: "I can. I'm not going to lose you."

But even as Merlin was saying the words and making his frantic effort to lift him and continue towards the lake, suddenly all that Arthur wanted was for it to end, not in some desperate but futile effort to save him, but peacefully and in the arms of someone who cared deeply for him, where the bitterness of death could be dispelled by the comfort and closeness of his dearest friend.

Arthur place his hand over Merlin's and gently patted it as he spoke his final wish: "Just… just… just hold me. Please."

Merlin continued to breathe heavily as Arthur lay back against him, but the young warlock finally acquiesced and granted Arthur his wish. As Arthur rested in Merlin's arms, he summoned the little strength he had left and began to speak again in an uneven and halting voice, his face by now pale and devoid of all colour, and his eyes as if fixed on some distant point: "There's … there's… something I want to say…"

Merlin was adamant, "You're not going to say goodbye."

Arthur shook his head slightly"- No," with Merlin's face by now close to his own. _The journey from Camlann to Avalon had opened his eyes – and Merlin needed to know that._

He cast his eyes sideways to his faithful servant and friend, so that he could look straight at him as he said the words that needed to be said: "Merlin… everything - you've done… I know now…. for me, for Camelot… for the kingdom you helped me build… "

Merlin looked intently at his friend, not taking his eyes off him: "You'd have done it without me."

And then Merlin saw again the carefree smile on Arthur's face that he knew so well, as the king said light-heartedly, "Maybe…"

Arthur's vision drifted away into the distance again, but he had not lost his focus and he continued slowly and deliberately, every word an effort: "I want to say… something I've never said to you before….."

And with that Arthur struggled with what seemed to Merlin like a huge effort to turn his head so that he could face his friend. And looking deeply into Merlin's eyes, he summoned his strength a final time to say what he wanted to say more than anything else: "Thank you."

A deep calm settled upon Arthur when he had spoken those words, feeling that he had said all that he needed to say and was now ready to let go of his hold on life, having made peace with his friend and his fate. Arthur looked almost dreamily at Merlin, and as he stared quietly into his eyes he saw there what Merlin's own father had seen – kindness. But he also saw love – a love that mirrored his own for his dearest friend. And Arthur – with the last strength that he had in him – raised his arm and began to give Merlin's head a gentle rub in a gesture of deep affection. _The Disir had been wrong: not everything that was dear to him had been taken from him._ Love had triumphed over their judgment – and Arthur just gazed, smiling peacefully as he did so, into the eyes of his friend until his own eyes closed, and his arm fell back down to his side.

"Arthur….."

The deep sense of peace that enveloped Arthur was not shared, however, by Merlin as he watched his friend losing his battle to hold on to life. He cried, "No. … Arthur," as he put his hand to his neck to feel for a pulse and struggled to find it.

"ARTHUR!"

The king's eyes jerked opened, unfocused, in response to Merlin's shout of desperation – and an expression of relief replaced for a moment the panic on Merlin's face, and he whispered to his friend, "Stay with me." But Arthur's eyes began to close again almost immediately.

"Arthur, no….," but there was no second reprieve.

Merlin let out a loud cry from the exertion of trying to move his body out from where he had been cradling Arthur as panic took hold of him. He shouted out again, "ARTHUR!" before letting out another grief-stricken cry. And then from the depths of his being, the summons of the dragonlord erupted as Merlin lifted his face and his anguished voice to the skies: "O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd' hup' anankes!"

Merlin, still cradling Arthur's head in his arm, finally managed to manoeuvre himself onto his knees beside his friend who was by now lying still and pale on the grass that was wet from the morning dew. Merlin held Arthur's head in his hands and lent his forehead gently against Arthur's. But it was only for a moment, for almost immediately he heard the rush of air caused by the beat of the wings of the ancient dragon.

A look of hope returned to Merlin's face as he watched the magical beast dropping gently to earth, and he shouted the dragon's name: "Kilgharrah – "

Merlin rose quickly to his feet as the creature alighted beside him: "I would not have summoned you if there was any other choice. I have one last favour to ask."

And moments later the enormous dragon was bearing the most precious burden he had ever borne: not only the dragonlord to whom he answered, but also the king whom the dragonlord served. Merlin held Arthur tightly as they soared into the air and covered in barely any time the remaining miles to Avalon. But as they began descending to earth again, Merlin shouted to the dragon, "The island – take us to the island!" But Kilgharrah appeared not to hear him, landing instead on the lush grass by the edge of the lake, as the morning light streamed through the trees nearby. But Kilgharrah had not been deaf to the cries of the young warlock, but was acting with loving wisdom – for the dragon had known as soon as he set eyes on the young king, that they were bearing him to Avalon not as a place of healing but as his final resting place.

The ancient creature who had called to Merlin and laid upon him his destiny when he had first arrived in Camelot watched as Merlin began to desperately drag Arthur to the small boat that was pulled up on the shore of the lake. And Kilgharrah knew that he would have to be the one to tell Merlin what the warlock's eyes could see but what his heart couldn't accept.

"Merlin? There is nothing you can do."

The words were like a knife plunged deep into Merlin's heart, and as he stood still supporting Arthur's unmoving body, he spoke in a voice that trembled: "I've failed?"

"No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building has come to pass."

But Merlin still was not ready to accept what he was being told, and hauled Arthur up into his arms once again with a loud cry of exertion, exclaiming as he held Arthur tightly to himself, "I can't lose him! He's my friend!"

But Kilgharrah peered down at them both with his huge eyes: "Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin."

The way the dragon said the words made Merlin look down at the friend in his arms, wondering at Kilgharrah's meaning, which the dragon then supplied: "Arthur is not just a king, he is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again."

The finality of the words – although they contained some distant and indeterminate hope - seemed to at last bring home to Merlin the terrible truth: that even before he'd summoned the dragon, Arthur had died in his arms as he'd held him. As he stood barely able to take in the enormity of what had happened, the dragon had one final thing to say to the young warlock: "It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock. The story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men."

And with that, Kilgharrah rose up into the sky, leaving Merlin staring after him. And Merlin then finally laid Arthur down on the soft grass - and let go of him.

Merlin stood following the dragon's flight until he had disappeared from sight, and then he knelt down once again beside Arthur. And once more he took him in his arms and cradled him and gave in to the grief that now swept over him, weeping over his friend and his king as he had never wept before. It had been time that had been their greatest enemy – not Saxons or Morgana – as they had travelled from Camlann to Avalon, and even as they had approached the ancient isle, the shard from Mordred's sword had finally finished its journey to Arthur's heart – but not before that same heart had completed its own journey back to Merlin.

_**Author's note**_

_**Apologies to those of you who wanted me to change what happened – but that wasn't the point of this story. However, on a more positive note, this is far from over, and there will be several more chapters to come, as I'm not going to leave it hanging as much as the BBC did! (There is SO much more to say – and a better final ending to give!). Thanks to all of you who are reading this – please leave a (nice!) review if you're able if you are reading and enjoying it.**_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

When, after a long time, Merlin's tears finally subsided, he didn't immediately move. Instead he just sat, still holding Arthur, whispering over and over again, "I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm so sorry."

Whatever Kilgharrah had said, the truth was that Merlin couldn't shake off a deep-seated sense of failure.

_All that you have dreamt of building has come to pass_. Albion may have been born, but he had always envisioned Albion with the two of them standing side by side, with magic once again welcomed and him and his kind no longer having to hide their true identity. The dream felt as if it had been shattered rather than fulfilled. Merlin didn't, of course, realise that Camelot's sovereign – no longer Arthur but Guinevere – already knew his secret and had already accepted the use of magic for the simple reason that she trusted Merlin without fear or hesitation. But even had he known this, the fact would still have remained - without Arthur, Albion meant nothing to him.

But eventually even Merlin's whispered words came to an end, and he simply sat in silence, feeling numb and utterly spent. He knew deep down, however, that he couldn't sit there for ever – there was one final act of service for Arthur that he had to perform. So he finally let go of Arthur, lying him gently back down on the ground, and got to his feet slowly, his limbs aching from being still for so long. As the intensity of Merlin's grief subsided for a while, and he stood rubbing his limbs, he began looked around him at the place where he found himself – and began to notice what he'd been oblivious to before. As had been the case when he and Arthur had travelled to the grove at Brinived in the White Mountains to speak to the Disir, he could sense the effect of magic in that place, the life that seemed to vibrate in almost every living thing around him. Avalon had the feel of hallowed ground, and something told him that this was the place where Arthur's body should be left to rest. A burial boat was needed, and it seemed to Merlin as if the boat at the water's edge had somehow been provided for that very purpose.

But there was one other matter to attend to first – the sword that had been burnished by the breath of a dragon and imbued with a power for Arthur alone to wield, had to be put out of the reach of mortal man. Merlin walked over to where the sword lay on the ground and took it up into his hand, the sword glinting as it caught the light of the morning sun. Merlin knew that he would never again handle such a noble and beautiful weapon. He stood for a moment gazing out across the lake to the Island with its high tower, still partly shrouded in the morning mist. It was to have been the source of Arthur's healing, but like the memory of a dream that flees away as morning comes, that healing had eluded them just as it was almost within their grasp. Merlin tore his gaze away from the Isle and looked down at the sword, lightly fingering its hilt as he did so. As he lifted Arthur's sword, the light that reflected off the blade danced across his face, and then he did what he knew he had to do – he leaned back slightly and then threw the sword with all his might across the lake and towards the Isle. He watched as the sword cartwheeled through the air, but was unprepared for what happened next. A hand suddenly rose out of the lake and deftly reached up and caught the sword, before drawing it slowly down into the waters, until all that remained were the circular ripples spreading out from where the point of the sword had been only moments earlier.

There was then only one thing that remained for him to do – make ready Arthur's body and the burial boat for his final journey. Merlin inspected the boat, taking the measure of its dimensions, before beginning the task of finding and cutting the reeds with which he would fill the recesses of the boat and on which he would lay the body of the king. He wandered along the shore of the lake, looking for the tallest reeds he could find. He kept looking back at Arthur's body lying on the ground – not that any other living being was within miles of them, but all the same, he found himself checking, as if by force of habit, at regular intervals. Merlin could, of course, have made his job easier for himself by using magic to quickly and efficiently harvest the reeds, but somehow it felt right to be pouring his own energy into the strenuous task of finding, cutting and carrying the mound of reeds needed to fill the boat. It was as if he didn't want to be taking any short cuts in the last act of service he would perform for Arthur. He had been used to being constantly nagged by Arthur about his (perceived) ineptitude when it came to keeping things (notably Arthur's room) clean and tidy, and he wanted the preparation of the boat to be faultless for his friend. He laid the cut reeds this way then that, rearranging them to look perfect, not acknowledging to himself that he was also using every excuse to postpone the moment that he knew must inevitably come, when he would have to say a final farewell to Arthur. He could have beautified the boat with flowers or ferns as he'd done for first Freya and then Lancelot, but this time he couldn't bring himself to do that – the stark simplicity of the reeds somehow seemed right.

It was well past noon by the time the boat had been made ready, and Merlin then set about the task of preparing Arthur's body. He'd found an old blanket folded in the bottom of the boat, and tore a piece off it, dipping the rough cloth in the water of the lake before wringing it out. He then used the damp material to wash the grime and sweat of both the battle and the journey off Arthur's face, now cold to the touch, the warmth of life having by now left his body. And then all that was left was to perform one more spell that transformed the rest of the blanket into a blood red cloak of Camelot, complete with dragons, to be fastened around the king's shoulders. That task accomplished, Merlin knelt beside Arthur a final time, bent over him and kissed him on the forehead, before whispering, "Sleep in peace, dear friend."

He then, as he'd done on the battlefield, took Arthur up into his arms and then laid him on the bed of reeds within the boat. He took time to arrange the body so it was perfectly central, with Arthur's hands resting together upon his chest. It was only the pallor of death and the absolute stillness of the body that persuaded Merlin that his friend was not simply sleeping, as the peacefulness that Arthur had felt at death still seemed to hang over him. And Merlin then knew that he could postpone their parting no longer.

He began pushing the boat out into the water, until he was standing thigh deep in the cool waters of the lake of Avalon. He laid his hand gently upon Arthur's forehead and prayed a silent prayer of blessing. He'd thought that his heart had already broken and that he couldn't possibly feel any more pain than he'd already felt – but he was wrong. As the tears began to flow again he didn't just feel heart-broken –it felt as if his heart had died, as wave upon wave of utter desolation began to sweep over him. He turned and looked out towards the water that would bear the young king away from him, and laid a final hand upon Arthur's own clasped hands, his cheeks now wet from his tears. He then tried to speak the words of magic that would send the boat towards the Isle at the centre of the lake - but the words wouldn't form. He tried to compose himself and began again: "In sibbe gerest." And his eyes flash gold.

As the boat began to glide silently away from him, he felt completely bereft and empty. All his deeply felt losses – those who had been dearest to him - came flooding back to him: Will, then Freya, his own father and Lancelot. In all those deaths he'd always had Arthur to turn back to: Arthur – his friend, his brother, his rock. And now there was no one to fill the aching void he felt. How could he replace the irreplaceable? It seemed so cruel that at the moment when Arthur had finally accepted him for who he was – accepted him and loved him – he was taken from him. Merlin watched, still sobbing, as the boat moved slowly across the lake, and whispered between his sobs to the friends he had lost, "Take care of him for me." And when it came to it, Merlin couldn't bring himself to utter the further words that he'd said when he'd sent both Freya and Lancelot off in their burial boats. He couldn't bring himself to ignite the boat - he couldn't bear to watch the boat burn and sink taking Arthur's body with it.

But the lake had one more surprise for him. Although the morning was long past, mists were still hanging low over the water, and as Merlin watched they rolled towards the boat, and enveloped it. Merlin found himself suddenly staring intently into the bright mist, because when it cleared, the boat was nowhere to be seen, as if the mist had suddenly borne Arthur away to somewhere that was out of the sight of mortal men. And he stood for a long time just staring at the spot where the boat had been.

But eventually, as he stood there, sheer exhaustion finally began to take hold of him. He'd barely slept for several nights, and that lack of sleep and his grief suddenly overwhelmed him with a tiredness that seemed to seep into his very bones. Although he'd also barely eaten for days, the hunger that had been gnawing at him only hours before had left him completely, and he had no appetite at all. He knew that he must return to Camelot bearing the terrible news_, but not that day._ It was by now late in the afternoon, but Merlin knew it was beyond him to start the journey without first resting. Besides, all he wanted to do at that moment was slip into an oblivion where he could, at least for a few hours, be free from his pain. And so he walked to the edge of some trees nearby, and simply lay down and let the darkness of sleep roll over him and bear him to a place where all could be forgotten.

_**Author's note**_

_**This is virtually the last chapter with anything from the episode in it – next chapter we definitely begin to tell the story of "what happened next".**_


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The journey back to Camelot was easier and far swifter than Merlin had anticipated, for one very simple reason. He had been woken by the rising run, and had started out on foot, but had barely gone two miles when he came across the horses that had bolted at Morgana's presence. They were standing quietly together feeding on some grass in a clearing in the forest, and both pricked up their ears and lifted their heads as Merlin approached, staring at him for a moment before returning to their grazing. A few moments later, Merlin was standing by the horse that he had ridden, gently stroking its nose. It felt as if the horse had, like the burial boat, been supplied by a hand of providence that was reaching out to him in his darkest hours of grief. But before Merlin began back to Camelot, he removed the bridle and saddle from the horse that Arthur had ridden, releasing it to roam where it chose, and whispering a quiet "thank you" into its ear as he did so.

The miles flew past but Merlin seemed to notice neither the passing of time nor the scenery as it changed from forest to moor and then to gently rolling hills. The day felt grey and colourless to Merlin, even though the sun shone brightly, and numbness seemed to deaden everything around him. The desolation he'd felt the previous day seemed to be the only thing he was aware of. The hours slipped by until eventually Camelot's towers came into sight as evening approached – and immediately he saw them his grief threatened to overwhelm him once again. It would from now on forever be a Camelot without Arthur. He forced himself on, but then lingered a little way from the gates of the city, waiting for twilight to fall and the streets to grow quiet. He couldn't bear the thought of meeting someone he knew or being recognised on his way in – he knew that there was only one person that he could cope with seeing. So he crept into Camelot like a shadow, and, with softly spoken spells to extinguish lamps and occasional flashes from his eyes to distract those who came near, he moved unseen through the streets of the city as though he wore a cloak that made him invisible to human eyes.

~~~ O ~~~

As the door slowly opened, Gaius looked up from where he sat at his table. One look at Merlin told him everything he needed to know, and he immediately rose to his feet and began walking towards to the young man whose eyes had already begun to brim with tears on seeing the one who had been like a father to him for so long. "Oh, my dear boy. My dear boy."

Merlin fell into his arms and wept, and slowly choked out the words the only words of explanation he could manage through his sobs, "I couldn't save him, Gaius. We reached the lake but we were too late."

Gaius simply held him whilst Merlin poured out the grief that seemed, once again, as if it would crush him. He stroked Merlin's head gently and tried to sooth the deep pain of his loss. Gaius would himself grieve deeply for Arthur later, but he knew it was his duty at that moment to be strong for Merlin – and not only for him.

As the young man's sobs began to subside, Gauis said quietly, "We must tell the queen."

Merlin finally raised a tear stained face and looked at the older man and said with anguish in his voice, "I can't Gaius – I can't."

"Then I will take the news to her."

Merlin gave a wordless nod and released himself from the embrace of his mentor. He knew that Gwen would be waiting desperately for news and that she deserved to be told straight away. And suddenly a deep weariness swept over him again – and Gaius saw it in his eyes. "There's your favourite soup on the stove and the bread you like if you want it."

But Merlin just shook his head, "I need to sleep."

Gaius nodded, and then asked gently, "Where does the king rest?" knowing that it would be a question that the queen would ask.

"Avalon – I sent him towards the Isle on the lake."

Gauis nodded again, understanding the wisdom of Merlin's actions. He sighed deeply, and then laid a hand on the young warlock's shoulder, causing him to look up into Gaius's eyes. "Merlin – I'm sure you couldn't have done any more for Arthur than you did -" He paused, "- some fates just cannot be changed."

Merlin looked down at the floor again, and added forlornly, "we made our peace," and Gaius understood perfectly what he meant. The elderly physician sighed once more. "We'll talk in the morning – get some rest, Merlin – you need it."

Merlin nodded without looking up, and they broke apart, with Gaius turning to leave, and Merlin going to his bedroom. But before either of them had left the room, Merlin suddenly turned and added as an afterthought, "Morgana's dead." And with that, he pushed the door to his room and once more sought solace in his sleep.

~~~ O ~~~

"Come."

The light tap on the door to the royal chambers had Gwen immediately on her feet, and facing the door with her heart pounding. It had not been the only time that day – or the previous day – that that sequence had happened. But when she saw that it was Gaius who had entered – and saw the solemn look on his face – she found she could barely breathe: "Gaius?"

"Merlin has returned."

The words that to anyone else may have seemed to be good news pierced Gwen's heart like a knife, and she put her hands to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears, and whispered, "No, no – please don't say that, Gaius…."

But he just walked to her shaking his head sadly with deep compassion in his eyes, and even before he had uttered the words, "I'm sorry," Gwen was in his arms sobbing. Because it was the words that Gaius hadn't said that told her that her worst fears were confirmed. _Merlin has returned – but only Merlin. _

There was no impropriety in the embrace, as Gaius for the second time that evening found an inconsolable and grief-stricken young friend weeping on his shoulder. For at that moment, she was no longer Queen Guinevere, but just Gwen – the young woman who had grown up in Camelot and who had lost her heart to a young man who'd also grown up there and who loved her in return and had taken her as his wife. And as she wept, she was simply a heart-broken wife who had just become a widow, grieving for the love of her life.

And that night it seemed like a deathly hush fell over the city, punctuated only by the mournful tolling of the bell in the citadel, spreading the news across the city that its king was dead. And there were not many households where tears were not shed, for there had never been – and never would be again – a king of Camelot who was so greatly loved by his people.

~~~ O ~~~

It was only the following morning that Merlin found – and therefore remembered – the letter that Arthur had written for Guinevere. He had fallen fully clothed into bed the night before, and it was only as he rose and realised his need to wash and change that he found the folded parchment inside his tunic. He sat on his bed and held the letter in his hands, staring down at it for a long time, and recalling the words that had been dictated to him by Arthur. He fingered it lightly, aware - in a way that he hadn't been before – of what a treasured thing it was that he now held in his hands and profoundly grateful that Arthur had persuaded him to take time to write it. _He would take it to Gwen – _a night's sleep had not dissolved his grief, but suddenly he had a longing to see the person who, more than any other, shared the same depth of love for Arthur.

The door suddenly creaked as it was pushed open, and Gaius entered holding a large bowl of water with steam rising from it, with a cloth and a towel slung over his arm. "I heard you moving around."

Merlin put the letter down on his pillow, and eyed the bowl, managing a small smile, "Did I smell that bad last night?"

"I've known you fresher…"

"Mmmm." Merlin gave a little nod of agreement, but the small smile faded from his face.

Gaius put the bowl on the small table by Merlin's bedside, and sat on the bed next to him, laying a hand upon his arm, but not speaking. There were times when words were inadequate, and Gaius was well aware of it, and so they just sat together for several minutes without speaking.

It was Merlin who eventually broke the silence: "I don't know what to do, Gaius." His voice was flat, and his words were more a statement than a question, and Gaius wisely didn't fill the silence that followed with answers, but merely continued to share the grief of his friend, sighing and patting his arms, and saying quietly, "I know… I know."

After several more moments, Gaius rose to his feet: "I'll leave you to wash and change – I'll have breakfast waiting for you when you're ready."

And before he left the room, Merlin did manage to look up and say, "Thank you, Gaius," and then almost guiltily remembered to add, "And thank you for taking the news to Gwen - how was she?"

Gaius paused and, rather than answering, just simply said, "I know she will want to see you," adding with a small smile, "She knows Merlin – she knows about your magic."

Merlin suddenly looked up sharply, a pained look on his face, not be able to bear the thought that he would have to face the rejection and fear of another friend. Gaius caught his expression and knew what lay behind it: "You need have no worry, Merlin – she accepted it gladly."

~~~ O ~~~

There were no duties for the queen that day, but as Arthur had found when his father died, however, a monarch is given precious little time to grieve. Although Camelot's mourning would continue for many days and the black drapes that replaced the red and gold banners would hang for at least another week, the ceremony that would confirm her as the absolute sovereign in Arthur's stead, could only wait until the following day – it was never good for any realm to leave even the smallest doubt as to who was in charge. Gwen did at least, however, have one day to be by herself and mourn her loss before she would have to face the world again. She sat, dressed in the same black velvet gown she had worn when Elyan had died, in the room that she and Arthur had shared, and that now was hers alone. Although she had sat there on her own many times before, the large royal chambers now felt so empty and silent without Arthur. The whole room seemed to be imbued with him – his clothes still hung in the wardrobe, his collection of helmets still covered one the wooden trunks in the room, the odd discarded map that he'd studied before the battle still lay rolled up on his desk, and every single thing she looked at reminded her of him – but each remembrance was bitter-sweet, for although it brought to mind the enormity of her loss, it also was something she could still on to of Arthur.

The city was quiet again, and the silence seemed to press in on her, the knock on the door suddenly making her jump. But she knew who it was before the door even opened. Gwen rose quickly when Merlin entered and neither of them spoke a word before hugging and holding each other tight. It was as if words weren't needed – they each understood perfectly what the other was feeling – but they were both too empty and exhausted from grief to, at that moment, shed any more tears. So they just stood holding each other, finding comfort and solace in their shared love and shared loss of Arthur.

Merlin finally spoke quietly, while they were still clinging to each other, almost echoing the words he'd said to Gaius the night before. "I'm so sorry, Gwen – I couldn't save him." They pulled apart from their embrace, and Gwen nodded her acceptance of his words.

"You served Arthur better than anyone, Merlin. I know you will have done everything you possibly could for him." Those words now carried a new meaning for her, but that would come later. Seeing the sadness that was etched so deeply on his face, she suddenly added. "You were very dear to him – he loved you so much. You do know that, don't you?"

Merlin nodded, and then put his hand into a pocket and drew out the letter and held it out to her. "Arthur wrote a note to you."

Gwen let out a little gasp and laid both her hands on the black velvet of her dress and over her heart. She had ached so desperately since receiving the news, wishing more than anything that she could have had one last chance to speak to him, one last chance to tell him of her love for him. That would never now be possible, and yet instead she was being allowed to hear his voice speaking to her one last time, and her heart leapt. She held out a hand and took the letter from him, looking down at it wonderingly, her name plainly written in the centre of the folded parchment.

Merlin explained, "He wasn't able to write any of it for himself, so he dictated it to me. I know you will want to be by yourself to read it."

But before Merlin moved to leave, Gwen looked up with a confused look on her face. "But it's Arthur's handwriting…?"

Merlin gave a wry smile, but before he had even begun to explain, Gwen had realised the truth: "Your gifts…."

He nodded.

Gwen glanced down at the letter again before saying to Merlin, "You will come back later - when you're ready – and tell me about your journey together?"

Merlin nodded again, and finally turned to leave, but as he reached the door, Gwen suddenly asked in a strained and anxious voice, "Please, Merlin – just tell me how he died."

Merlin paused and turned back to face her, and their eyes met. And for the first time, Gwen truly saw the depth of pain in his soul – and she saw something else: hopelessness. It was as if the flame that had always burned so brightly within him had suddenly been extinguished. And finally Merlin gave Gwen her answer, in just six simple words, saying softly and sadly, "He died peacefully – in my arms."

Gwen's eyes welled up with tears, which spilled over and rolled down her cheeks, but they were tears of gratitude more than grief, and she whispered, "Thank you, Merlin – thank you for taking care of him to the very end."

When she was by herself once more, Gwen walked across to the window and sat in its bay, where the morning light was pouring through the glass. She very carefully and gently opened out the folded parchment, and began reading: _My darling Guinevere, I once promised you that I would never leave you. If Merlin has given you this letter then it will mean that I have broken that promise. I am so sorry, my love – please forgive me….."_

She could, in her head, hear Arthur's familiar voice, and by the time she finally reached the words, _I love you Guinevere, with all my heart. Arthur, _the tears were freely coursing down her cheeks. She re-read the letter several times, until her heart had firmly taken hold of every single thing he'd said. And then she sat quietly in the window seat for a very long time, with her eyes closed, allowing her mind's eye to bring to her every memory it held of his face. And in the quietness, as her hands gently fingered the precious gift that still lay in her lap, she simply whispered into the gentle breeze that came in through the window, "I love you, Arthur."

The small piece of the parchment that bore his name at the end of the letter would eventually find its way into a heart-shaped locket that Gwen would wear for the rest of her life. The letter itself would be kept in the wooden box that Arthur had given her on their wedding day, and would be her most treasured possession, read and re-read countless times over the years. But never did it mean so much to her as it did on the day that Merlin gave it to her, when it was just as if she heard Arthur speaking his words of love to her from beyond the grave.

~~~ O ~~~

That evening Merlin and Gaius sat down at the table, a simple meal laid out between them. Despite it being another of Merlin's favourites, all he seemed to do was spend his time staring down at the plate and moving the food around on it. It had not been a good day for him. The time spent with Gwen had been precious, but everything seemed to go downhill after that. He'd found that there was nowhere he could go in Camelot that didn't have numerous memories of Arthur associated with it. They had together walked every corridor, climbed every staircase, and crossed every street and square more times than he could possibly remember – and the memories of those times seemed to magnify his pain and sense of loss. And then had come the terrible body-blow of finding out about the death of Gwaine, and the circumstances and nature of it. After Lancelot, Gwaine had been the knight with whom he'd had the closest bond, and the city felt even emptier after he'd heard the news, and he wept yet again for another lost friend. And so by the time it came to supper, any appetite that might have returned had once again left him.

And Gaius, of course, was not oblivious to Merlin's pain. He watched the same piece of carrot being pushed around the plate for the third time, and then asked in a gentle tone, "Why don't you tell me everything that happened, Merlin. How did things change between you and Arthur on the journey to Avalon?" Merlin finally gave up chasing the carrot and laid his fork down on the plate. He pushed the unfinished meal away from him, laid his elbows and forearms on the table, and finally began to talk. He spoke of Arthur's hostility and sense of betrayal; he told Gaius how he'd tried to show kindness whenever he could, and of the conversations they'd had; he related the way that Arthur's heart had softened even as his body had weakened, and how the king had gradually begun to see all that Merlin had done in a new light – and had finally accepted him. Merlin told of their encounters with Saxons and their encounter with Morgana, and with tears he spoke of all that Arthur said to him in the final hours. And finally he told Gauis how, in sight of Avalon, the king had died whilst he held him, and then been borne by Kilgharrah to his final resting place at the lake.

Gaius didn't say a single word through all this time – he simply allowed Merlin to tell his story in his own time and in his own way. But when Merlin finally fell silent after describing how the boat on which he'd laid Arthur seemed to disappear in the mist, Gaius looked at his young friend with a sudden curiosity: "There's something else, isn't there?"

Merlin wondered how Gaius knew he'd omitted one important detail – _but then, Gaius had always understood him better than anyone, better than he even understood himself at times._

Merlin stared at the table. "It was something Kilgharrah said. He told me that some lives had been foretold. I knew that had been true of Arthur establishing Albion, and I knew that Kilgharrah had referred to him as the Once and Future King, though I'd never understood what he meant by that. He said it again at the lake, but then he told me to take heart, because he said that when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again."

Both men fell silent, pondering the words of the dragon.

"What do you think that means, Gaius?"

Of course, that wasn't the question that was really in Merlin's heart – that question was simply, _When?_

"I'm sure any guess that I make would be no better than any of yours."

Merlin sighed deeply, having wished – although he knew it to be a vain hope - that Gaius would be able to supply an answer that would lift his heart, as he'd done so many times before. But Gaius did have one thing to say. "Whatever the truth of the words, it seems that the dragon meant them to bring you hope. Misplaced hope can be a dangerous thing, Merlin, but maybe it's not so bad to hope for something we dearly want, as long as we are prepared to wait, however long it may take."

Merlin sighed again and nodded, but then asked, "Should I tell Gwen?"

"I'm not sure I can answer that for you Merlin, but I'm sure your heart will tell you what's right."

~~~ O ~~~

The ceremony to proclaim Gwen was a simple one. It was held the following morning, with every seat in the great hall taken. Percival knelt before the queen to symbolise the loyalty of all the knights of Camelot to their new sovereign, and Leon stood to her left, ready to make the proclamation. Gwen sat fingering the royal seal of Camelot: the Pendragon ring that had been handed down to Arthur by his father, and which Arthur had now left to her. Although she felt – quite rightly – inadequate for the task (for no ruler should think themselves capable of such a huge task by themselves), Arthur had taught her by his words and his example how to serve the people with justice, wisdom and compassion. And she knew that she didn't rule alone. Arthur's Round Table would now become her Round Table, where she could seek the counsel of others and where they could take together the decisions that would be for the good of Camelot, and now the good of Albion too. But she also knew of Arthur's faith in her, a faith that had been clearly demonstrated by passing his ring on to her.

She was all too well aware of the empty throne to her right, and the grandeur of the occasion - sitting with the beautiful and ornate crown of the Queen of Camelot on her head – could not take away the ache in her heart for the man she had loved so completely. She didn't want to rule without him – but she would rule for him, and every day she would dedicate herself to serve his people for his sake. She gave a little nod to Leon. But there was one person who was not there to hear Arthur's most trusted knight proclaim Guinevere once more as queen. For although Merlin would gladly have raised his voice with every other there, in the words "Long live the queen!" it was more than he could bear to hear proclaimed out loud the four words that came before: _The King is dead._

~~~ O ~~~

"Of course, I understand, Merlin." Gwen laid her hand lightly on his arm as she said the words, trying to assure him that she was in no way hurt by the lack of his presence at the ceremony earlier in the day. "I'm not sure I wanted to be there either, but I had no choice!" Gwen's attempt at humour did at least bring something approaching a smile to his face. "However could I ever doubt your loyalty, Merlin?"

And with that Gwen gestured to him to sit in a chair near to hers and, as he had done the previous evening, Merlin once again told the story of the journey from Camlann to Avalon.

Merlin, when the numbness that he still felt had allowed him, had thought earlier in the day about the question as to whether to tell Gwen the meaning of "The Once and Future King." He felt torn, not wanting to give her false hope (knowing that she would immediately wonder if his return would be in her lifetime) but not wanting to keep it a secret from her either. In the end, there was one simple question he asked himself: _if there was a prophecy that Freya would rise, would I want to know it? _And the equally simple answer to that question was, _Yes. He would never want his heart to go to another if there were any chance that he could possibly be reunited with her in this life. _Rightly or wrongly, that was what he knew he would feel. And so he told Guinevere.

The astonishment on her face was clear to see, but whatever her thoughts or feelings were, she kept them to herself. But that wasn't the only shock she received from Merlin that night. The truth was that, for Gwen and Merlin, Camelot now meant totally different things. For Gwen, the city helped her feel close to Arthur. There was so much of him in the city, so much that reminded her of him. For Merlin, that was the very thing that made him want to run away. Whilst Gwen drew comfort from its walls, Merlin had already found that its memories only seemed to underline and intensity his sense of loss. Gwen had also drawn from Arthur a sense of calling, of duty, of a service that she owed the people that had been entrusted to her, and his death had laid upon her an even greater destiny, but for Merlin, his purpose seemed to lie in tatters. _What was he without Arthur?_ Coming to Camelot had given him a sense of finally having found his place in the world, but Arthur's death felt like his own death too. And even if they had, as Kilgharrah had suggested, fulfilled the destinies thrust upon them, what was left? Merlin couldn't bear the grief that being in Camelot stirred in him.

"I'm leaving Camelot."

The words came without any warning.

Gwen looked startled, "Where will you go?"

There was only one place that he could think of where comfort might possibly be found. "Ealdor. It's been too long since I saw my mother."

Gwen nodded. "You haven't seen Hunith since we took refuge there, have you?"

Merlin shook his head.

"Give her my love. When will you be leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning."

The genuine sadness at Merlin's words was clear in Gwen's eyes. "Don't stay away too long." But a sudden worried look came to the queen's face, and she quickly added, "You will come back, won't you?"

When he shrugged his shoulders, she took his hands in hers: "Merlin – we need you here – we need your wisdom and your gifts." And Merlin knew that she was speaking about his magic. But he also knew that, at that moment, he had no idea what the future meant for him – if anything.

When Merlin didn't answer, they sat in silence for a few moments, and then Gwen finally added with a little smile, "Well, if you won't come back to me, I will just have to come and visit you." And after a moment's pause, she added quietly, "I would very much like to hear your story, Merlin. I've known you all these years, but suddenly I feel as if there's so much about you that I simply don't know. I would be honoured if you would tell me, one day – when you're ready."

And with that, they said their farewells, as Merlin also did the following morning with Gaius.

The court physician and the young man he'd treated like a son stood with their arms around each other for a long time. They had already said many parting words to one another, and only one more thing remained to be said.

"I don't know how to thank you, Gaius."

"It is I who should be thanking you, Merlin. You've given me far more joy than you will ever know."

Gaius held the young warlock at arm's length in order to look him up and down. "I am so proud of you, my boy."

Although the deep melancholy that clung to Merlin was never far away, he did manage a small smile. "And I of you."

"Promise me, one thing, Merlin – that you will take care of yourself. And remember, whatever the future holds for you, your home is here as well."

Merlin didn't want to think about any future that didn't include Arthur, but he nodded anyway.

He hugged his mentor one last time and, with that, mounted his horse and rode out through the gates of Camelot, leaving its towers, its people and its memories behind.

_**Author's note**_

_**I almost left a big cliff-hanger at the end of that chapter. Something pretty significant will happen in the next chapter - in Camelot (but probably not what you think!) – and there are a few chapters still to come, ie plenty more story left, despite how the ending of that chapter sounded. Next chapter pretty soon hopefully - with a major flashback!**_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

_**Author's note**_

_**OK, this may well be my longest chapter ever, but I so enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. It hopefully deals with one thing that (to my mind) was sorely overlooked in Series 5 – the issue of an heir. I had written the fic "The King's Word" before Series 5, which is also about that issue. This chapter is in keeping with what happens there, but doesn't in any way require a foreknowledge of it. This chapter has a huge flashback!**_

Had Merlin stayed in Camelot a few more hours, he might have witnessed two different events that were to change the course of Camelot forever, and which may have finally lifted his heart and brought a smile to his face.

~~~ O ~~~

Gwen smiled when she saw that it was Gaius who had opened the door and entered the royal chambers.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Gaius."

"I was told you wanted to see me, my lady, and nothing prevented me from coming straight away."

A silence then hung between them for short while – their minds both on the same thing but neither knowing quite how to broach the subject. In the end, Gwen simply asked, "Has Merlin left yet?"

"Within the last hour, your majesty."

Gwen left where she had been standing by the window, and took a few paces towards him, communicating without words her longing to know the answer to one particular question, which she then voiced: "Will he return?"

"I really couldn't say for sure, my lady."

"But what does your heart tell you, Gaius?"

Gaius lifted his chin slightly, as he so often did when making a pronouncement of some import: "I believe he will."

"I do hope you're right, Gaius. I couldn't bear to lose him as well as Arthur."

"Merlin believed – and rightly so – from his earliest days in Camelot that the purpose for which he was born was to stand by Arthur's side and protect him – "

The words still sounded strange and almost unbelievable to Gwen given the Merlin she had known for so long, but she knew them to be true.

"And now that Arthur is gone he feels that his purpose in life has also gone?"

"Yes, my lady. I believe his place is still in Camelot, however, but he needs time to discover that for himself – and he needs time to grieve."

Gwen thought back to the time that she herself had sought comfort and shelter in Ealdor when her own heart had been grief-stricken, and she remembered the kindness that she had been shown by Merlin's mother, and the way she had helped her to begin to believe that there was still a future for her. "I know Hunith will help him. She knows how to help mend a broken heart."

"Indeed."

There was another short silence after Gaius had finished nodding in agreement, and then Gwen began broaching the subject for which she had summoned him "And I find myself once again needing your help Gaius."

"How can I be of assistance, your majesty?"

Gwen signalled to him to take a seat, and they both sat down at the large wooden table in the centre of the room.

"Our laws need to be changed, Gaius."

The court physician was almost sure he knew to what the queen was referring, but decided to hold his counsel and wait for her to elaborate.

"Merlin has changed everything. I do not believe either Arthur or Camelot has ever had such a loyal and selfless servant, and yet he was also a sorcerer. And not only that – it was sorcery that enable him to protect both Arthur and this city as he did, and he has opened our eyes - " she corrected herself, "- my eyes, to the fact that magic cannot be assumed to be evil more than other power."

Gaius had waited for so long to hear those words spoken by one who wore the crown of Camelot. It was not to be Arthur, although both he and Merlin had longed for it – had expected it – to be. And yet those words were now being spoken, and Gaius had long thought about what he would say.

"You are right, your majesty. Whilst I understand Uther's reasons for turning against magic, and agree that any use of sorcery that is for the ill of others must be opposed, nevertheless, that decision of Uther was, I believe, a wrong one, and one that ultimately brought much sorrow and pain upon this land. Magic is like fire, a potent force that can kill, maim or destroy if wielded with malice or without care. And yet fire is also the power that brings us warmth and comfort, and which can transform flour, water and yeast into the bread that we eat every day."

Gwen nodded in agreement, so Gaius continued. "Is it my understanding, your majesty, that you wish for magic to no longer be a crime, punishable by death?"

The queen nodded again. "If I am to believe what Merlin tells me – and I do completely – Arthur accepted Merlin's magic before his death. I know if my husband were alive today he would be seeking to change the laws his father made. I had hoped that Merlin would help re-introduce magic to Camelot, but now that he has left, I am hoping that I can count on your wisdom."

"I would be glad to help, my lady."

Gwen leaned forward across the table, eager to begin to take things forward immediately. "You remember the days before the Great Purge, a time when magic was welcome within Camelot. There surely must have been laws, however, that put boundaries on its use even then, so that those who may have abused its power knew the consequences of doing so?"

"Such laws did, indeed, exist – and they had worked well for many years."

"And you know how those laws were framed?"

Gaius smiled, "I am sure, your majesty,that with the help of my dearest old friend, Geoffrey of Monmouth, my memory could be jogged."

"I would like you both, then, to work together on some news laws for Camelot that can be brought to the council for approval."

"Do you think that approval can be gained, given the enemy in Morgana that we have faced so recently? I fear many will only be able to associate magic with her and the way she abused it."

"And yet there is not one member of the council who doesn't know or trust Merlin. Many of them may only have known him as Arthur's servant, but no one could ever doubt his loyalty or the trust that Arthur put in him. And I believe that your voice and my voice together will also be a force to be reckoned with on the council. You know Merlin's story, Gaius – you know the part he played at Camlann and in so many other triumphs of Arthur and Camelot. Even telling some of that story would surely win over the hearts of many."

"There will be much to do, I'm sure, but I believe a change can be achieved, and that hearts can be won."

A visible relief showed on the queen's face when she heard Gaius' words. "Thank you for your support, Gaius. But I fear that the work you have spoken of will make your load even heavier than it is now. You have always had Merlin to assist you, when his duties with Arthur allowed – is there another that you could bring alongside you? Camelot will not cease to need a physician's help."

Gaius fell silent which Gwen took to mean he was considering her question. The silence, however, was more to do with how he should frame his answer, because he had known immediately what that answer would be.

"There is such a one, your majesty, and yet it requires me to ask one thing of you that it would be perfectly within your rights to refuse."

Gwen look at him with a mystified expression on her face: "Gaius – I cannot imagine you asking anything of me that I would be unwilling to grant you!"

And when Gaius did petition the queen, she bestowed her favour gladly.

A certain amount of further discussion on the subject then took place, until their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Well, Gaius, I think that we have found a way forward."

"Indeed, your majesty. I will leave you to whatever you are needed for now."

"Thank you, as ever, for your help, Gaius."

And with that he rose to his feet, as the queen called out, "Come!"

The door opened, and a young woman entered, clearly carrying a baby wrapped in a blanket. Gaius stopped for a moment to look down at the small bundle in the woman's arms and at the baby who was no more than three months old, and he smiled as the child waved its small chubby arms around in the air before continuing on his way.

As Gaius closed the door behind him, Gwen rose to her feet, her expression brightening on seeing the nursemaid and the baby.

"Martha – does it go well with the youngest knight of Camelot?"

"It does my lady. He is a hungry little lad and growing stronger by the day."

Gwen had by this time drawn close enough to the nursemaid to see the little face almost hidden within the large cream-coloured blanket, and for that moment her own grief was forgotten in seeing the tiny life. Gwen then tore her face away from the baby, and looked at Martha enquiringly, inviting her to explain the reason for her call.

"I didn't want to bother you yesterday, my lady, and am sorry to have to disturb you today, but I just needed to ask, what is to be done with the child now?"

A puzzled look came to Guinevere's face, not understanding the meaning of the question – and Martha saw the queen's perplexity.

Gwen then watched as a look of horror came over the other woman's face, and Martha began stuttering out, "I… I'm so sorry, your majesty! I… I thought you'd heard about Tom – "

Gwen closed her eyes in shock, as a fresh wave of grief broke over her, and she whispered, "Not Tom… Dear God, not Tom as well…."

~~~ O ~~~

_Arthur lifted his hand suddenly, silently signalling to Merlin to stop. Merlin knew his master well enough to know that the subtle change in his hand signal also meant for him to keep quiet. Merlin craned his neck to look over the king's shoulder and into the shadows of the stable just visible through its partially open door, curious to discover what it was that had caught Arthur's attention. And what they both saw there was a young stable-hand, brandishing a wooden sword, cutting it this way and that through the air, suddenly lunging with it, and then swinging the sword against one of the wooden uprights that supported the roof of the stable, so that a loud smacking sound suddenly filled the air._

"_My horses better beware…." There was an amused smile on Arthur's face and a twinkle in his eye as he said the words as he finally pushed the door fully open and walked into the sizeable wooden building. The stable-hand spun round, utterly mortified that the king of Camelot had walked in to find him there, waving a wooden sword around, pretending to be a knight of Camelot. He immediately flushed bright red, bowed his head, and stammered an apology to the king. "It… it won't happen again, my lord, I… I promise." He couldn't bring himself to lift his head, such was his embarrassment._

_Merlin watched as Arthur studied the young man (though he could have barely seen sixteen summers) with great interest, still with the same smile on his face. "I'd like to disagree with you on that - I rather hope it will happen again. It looked like you knew what you were doing. "_

_The young man finally summoned up enough courage to face the king, and was heartened to see a kindly look on his face. _

"_It's Tom, isn't it?"_

"_Yes, sire."_

"_I hear good things of you from Carac," stated Arthur, citing the name of Camelot's head groom._

"_Thank you, sire," responded Tom, in a state of amazement that the king even knew of his existence._

"_Well, Tom, has someone been teaching you?" And when Tom looked embarrassed again, Arthur had to encourage him, "Well? I'd like to know."_

"_Um, yes…. you, my Lord."_

_Arthur gave him a quizzical look, and so Tom explained: "I'm often there at the training ground, with the horses. I like to watch you whenever I can. I try to listen to __everything__ you tell your knights – "_

_Arthur turned to look at Merlin, raising an eyebrow and giving him a pointed look as if to say, _you could learn something from this young man.

_Tom suddenly looked down at the sword with a guilty expression on his face, and felt the need to explain how he'd come by one of Camelot's training swords. "They were throwing some of these out – the wood was getting split. I thought that no one would mind if I took a couple of them – they were only going to be used as firewood."_

_Arthur smiled, "Tom, don't worry – you did nothing wrong." Arthur then nodded towards the sword: "So, do you think you can handle one of those?"_

_Tom flushed again, "I think I'm slowly getting better."_

"_Have you got another one of those wooden swords lying around?"_

_Tom hurried over to the back of the stable and returned with a sword which he gave to Arthur – who promptly turned round and presented it to Merlin, before stepping to one side so that he could watch them both. He addressed Tom again: "Here, pretend Merlin's a Saxon – give him your worst!"_

_Arthur folded his arms, "Don't worry about hurting him," and when Merlin opened his mouth to speak, Arthur cut in, "No, Merlin, I was talking to Tom."_

"_Thanks!" said Merlin sarcastically under his breath._

"_Anyway, Merlin shouldn't give you too much trouble, Tom – he couldn't hurt a fly with one of those -"_

"_I'm not __that__ bad," Merlin interrupted, scowling and muttering darkly._

"_That's true, Merlin, but you __are__ bad enough for my purposes now. Go ahead, Tom – attack him. I just want to watch how you swing your sword when you're facing a real opponent rather than a piece of wood….. although I'll admit that in Merlin's case, you might not notice any difference…."_

_Merlin scowled again and made mental note to ensure that some minor misfortune befell Arthur the next time he ventured out onto the practice field with the other knights._

_It soon became apparent that although Merlin wasn't bad with a sword, Tom was much, much better. He __had__ been listening carefully to Arthur, and had spent much of his very limited spare time practising again and again the moves he'd seen. He moved well – with agility – and Arthur watched how he shifted his weight as his feet moved beneath him. It was clear that he was a natural with a sword in his hand._

"_Ow!"_

_Arthur starting clapping, as he called out, "Oh, don't be such a girl, Merlin – it's only a wooden sword!"_

_Both Merlin and Tom lowered their swords and looked towards Arthur, who continued, "Good work, Tom. You have taught yourself extremely well. You have a good eye, and can move swiftly, and I'm sure you could be taught to be a fine swordsman."_

_Tom flushed yet again, but this time it was with pleasure at receiving praise from his king._

"_How old are you, Tom?"_

_The young man's pleasure suddenly evaporated, and was replace by a look of discomfort, and Tom cast his eyes to the floor, saying in a quiet voice as if he were ashamed, "Fifteen or sixteen, my lord. I'm not entirely sure."_

_Arthur looked perplexed, but Merlin knew what lay behind the lad's words. He knew many if not all the servants in the royal household, and his duties had brought him into contact with Tom on many occasions, and he knew most of his story. And to make it easier for him, Merlin started the explanation: "You're an orphan, aren't you Tom – you came to Camelot when you were just a young boy, didn't you?"_

_He nodded, "Many of the people in my village, including all my family there, were killed by the pox one winter. I was only two or three when it happened, and I ended up being brought here as someone or other knew that my father's uncle lived here. But when I got here, no-one seemed to know exactly how old I was, so I've never been sure."_

_Arthur said softly with sincerity in his voice, "I'm sorry about your parents, Tom."_

_Tom nodded without looking up. _

_But then Arthur continued, "You __are__ a little on the young side, but I see no real reason why we can't give you some real training to see how you get on."_

_Tom suddenly looked up, with any sense of shame having suddenly been replaced by astonishment._

"_I would like you from now on to come to the training field every afternoon, after the knights have finished their session. Sir Gwaine is one of my finest swordsmen. I will ask him to teach you for half an hour each evening, and if you show the improvement that I think you're capable of, then you can join the other young men who are training to become knights."_

_Tom could scarcely believe what he was hearing, and began to fear that he was in a dream and would wake up at any moment. If he'd not been in the company of the king, he might have pinched himself._

_Merlin smiled – __this__ was the Arthur he knew, who wished there to be opportunity for all with gifting, and not just those for those who had the good fortune to be born into the right families – and Merlin shared Arthur's obvious liking for Tom. But Arthur then became more serious. "You must understand though, Tom, that being a knight isn't just about being able to wield a sword. It is about having a noble heart, and fighting for what is right and for those who need to be defended. It means being willing to make sacrifices for the good of others. Do you think you would be able to do those things too?"_

_Tom nodded solemnly, "I hope so, your majesty."_

"_Good, but – " and Arthur continued in his serious tone: "- I would need you to promise me one thing."_

"_What, sire?" asked Tom, looking earnestly at his king._

"_If – " He broke off and started again: "__When__ Sir Gwaine asks you to go with him to the tavern, the answer is 'no'!"_

_Tom broke into a grin, "Yes, sire."_

~~~ O ~~~

_There probably wasn't one of Arthur's men who put such devotion into his practising as Tom. Gwaine enjoyed teaching him, and despite his best attempts to lead him astray, Tom steadfastly kept his promise to the king. He still had his duties in the stable, and so it was almost a month later that Arthur finally came to watch him again, and see the progress he'd made with Gwaine – which turned out to be considerable. _

_Gwen was standing beside her husband as he watched Tom, and she caught the look of almost pride on his face. She turned and gave him a little knowing look – "You've grown fond of him, haven't you?"_

_Arthur tried to look as if he didn't know what she was talking about, but a sudden little playful smile betrayed him, "Maybe….."_

_And when Arthur told Tom that he could move on to begin training to be a knight of Camelot, the young man felt that he must to be luckiest man in the whole world, and that life could only get better – and the king and queen could see it on his face._

_It was therefore both a shock and a mystery when some weeks later Tom asked for permission to see the king, when he and Guinevere were attending to the business of the court in the council chambers, and immediately fell on his knees before the king in great distress._

_Arthur asked in a concerned voice, "What is it Tom? Why have you asked to see me?"_

_And when the young man spoke, it was with great difficulty and with his head hung low: "I cannot continue to train to be a knight…"_

"_Why ever not?" asked Arthur in a puzzled voice._

"_I have brought shame on myself and have shown that I am not worthy to be a knight."_

_Arthur's brow remained furrowed: "I find that hard to believe, Tom. Whatever's happened?"_

_Tom kept his eyes firmly on the floor: "There's a girl, my lord – " _

_Arthur's heart sank – he had a horrible feeling that he knew exactly where this was going: "Go on…."_

"_She…. I…. we…."_

_Arthur decided that it was probably going to be easier to supply the words for him, "Is she with child?" _

_He nodded miserably in reply._

"_And you are the father?"_

_He nodded again, and Arthur sighed deeply. Gwen laid a hand on Arthur's arm, knowing her husband would be torn in two directions, and she asked Tom, "Who is the girl?"_

"_Her name's Lily – she's a maid in the palace kitchens."_

_Gwen went on, "Have you known her long?"_

_Tom nodded, "About three years," although he wished that he could simply be dismissed rather than having to answer questions which only served to increase his misery._

"_Do you love her?" Arthur's question took him by surprise and he looked up enquiringly, as if what he'd been asked didn't make any sense. _

_Arthur could see, now that Tom's head was raised, that he was close to tears, and when the king spoke again it was firmly but kindly, "It's not a trick question, Tom – do you love her?"_

_And it was as if his tongue had finally been loosed, and he began to speak rapidly in explanation: "Yes, my lord. We sort of fell in love the first time we met each other, although we were quite a bit younger then, and I would have married her already if I'd been old enough, although we'd have nowhere to live anyway because I've only got a small bed in a little room in the house where I've been lodging since my father's uncle passed a couple of years back, and I haven't really got any money to give her a little home, but we thought that if I became a knight I could save some money for a while and we could get married properly and then have a family, and we were always going to wait to…. you know….. until we were married, but…." Tom finally paused for a moment, becoming slightly embarrassed, but he took a deep breath and pressed on anyway, " – but it was hard waiting for so long, and once when we were together – and it was just the once - one thing led to another and we didn't mean to, but .… you know…. and afterwards we both felt terrible because we'd done what we said we wouldn't do, and felt so guilty and scared, and now we know we're being punished like we deserve, and – "_

_Gwen cut in, "Bearing a child is not a punishment, Tom…."_

"_But I do deserve to be punished for what I've done, and I've…. I've shown that I am not worthy to be a knight of Camelot. We won't put off being married now, but I know I don't even deserve to be a stable-hand again after what I've done but I'll try to find work to support Lily and the child and we'll manage somehow." Tom's voice began to break as he choked out the words, and then he waited in silence for the king's judgment and for his dismissal to be confirmed._

_Arthur sighed deeply yet again. He could see the deep contrition in Tom, and he remembered how delighted he'd been when he had been accepted for training as a knight. But Arthur also remembered something else – he remembered how difficult he'd found restraint, and having to keep on reining in his own desires for Gwen in the long years that they'd waited for each other. Not that he was going to admit that in public. And he suspected, though he had no proof, that not even all his knights – notably one who made a habit of frequenting the tavern – kept to the highest standards of the knight's code in that particular area._

_Arthur studied the young man in silence, as his own mind debated the right course of action, and the eyes of all in the room were on him as he did so. And then he eventually spoke: "For those who will be knights of Camelot, I don't ask for men who never make mistakes – that would rule out all of us. But I __do__ look for those who will take responsibility for their mistakes when they make them, and seek not only to make amends for what they have done but also to learn from things they get wrong. When I look at you, Tom, I see someone who is willing to do each of those three things. You've made one mistake, and it has laid upon you a responsibility even greater than that of being a knight. And so I want you now to put what's happened behind you, and to be best husband and the best father you possibly can, as well as continuing to train to be best knight that you can." _

_Whilst there were some in the council chambers whose expressions betrayed their disapproval of the king's decision, most smiled and even more so when they saw the reaction of the earnest young man who was kneeling before the king and queen. He lifted his head and the look of utter astonishment and joy on his face warmed the hearts of most who saw it. _

"_I will not disappoint you, your majesty!"_

_Arthur smiled, "I don't think you need to be on your knees any more, Tom," causing the young man to scramble eagerly to his feet._

_Gwen then asked, "Can you live with Lily's family after you are wed so you have somewhere to live for when the baby is born?" _

_Tom shook his head, "Lily hasn't got family of her own, my lady. They died when lady Morgana took the city."_

_Gwen shuddered slightly at the memory of how many of the Camelot's citizens had been senselessly killed when her old mistress and her immortal army had swarmed into the city. Gwen then spoke with kindness and compassion, "Well, you will soon both have a family to be part of once again," before turning her head to look at Arthur, a question in her eyes. _

_Arthur gave her an almost imperceptible nod, knowing exactly what it was she was asking. _

"_We will make sure you have somewhere to live – I can't have one of my trainee knights and his new wife being destitute on the streets of Camelot," and with that he turned to his right: "Merlin, I trust you can take care of that?"_

_Merlin, who had been watching closely all that had happened, remembered the words he had once spoken to Arthur when he sought the king for clemency for another: _the people won't find you weak or a fool, but they will find you merciful and understanding_. And he knew that he was seeing that very thing before his eyes. Merlin nodded to Arthur in reply, "yes, sire," and true to his word, before the week was out, not only were Tom and Lily married, but they also had a small one-roomed house on the same street on which Gwen used to live._

_~~~ O ~~~_

_Tom would have been knighted earlier, but his training took a little longer once that it was discovered that he didn't know how to read or write. Geoffrey of Monmouth found himself once again schooling a young man, but this time one who (if only to prove himself to the king) had a greater eagerness for book- learning than a certain young prince had once shown. But eventually the day came when Tom knelt before the king, whose sword was touched upon his shoulders with the words, "Arise, Sir Thomas." (Lily had suggested that Thomas sounded a nobler name to go with the title, 'Sir' and he had agreed – although in reality, that was the only occasion he was ever actually called Sir Thomas, as everyone already knew him too well by his shorter name, but he didn't mind.) Although the look of pride on the young man's face was clear for all to see, Merlin wasn't sure that evening whose pride was the greater – that of Tom or Arthur. _

_In the event, he was knighted only shortly before the child was born, and eventually after a long and difficult labour assisted by Gaius, a little boy was born into a world that was in troubled times. Only the previous day, refugees from Helva, a town across Camelot's western border, had come streaming into the city, having been driven out by Morgana. But those troubles seemed distant ones to the new father and mother as they held their firstborn child. Their first visit, much to their surprise and delight, was a royal one, when Guinevere came to see them the next day. _

_Tom hurriedly rose to his feet from his seat by Lily's side as the queen entered, but before his wife had a chance to move, Gwen said with a broad smile, "Don't even think about getting up, Lily!"_

"_Thank you, your majesty," replied the new mother shyly, still pale and weak after the rigours of a difficult childbirth._

"_Here, have my seat, my lady."_

"_Thank you, Sir Tom," responded Gwen almost playfully, and sat down next to Lily, who was cradling the baby, wrapped in a small woollen blanket, in her arms._

_Gwen leant over and looked into the little bundle, where a tiny child with wisps of fair hair and blue eyes stared out at her: "He has your colouring, Lily." _

_The young mother blushed with pleasure and Gwen continued, "What name have you decided to give him?"_

"_Amhar, your majesty."_

_Gwen looked up from the baby and at Lily, "I haven't heard that name before."_

"_It was Tom's idea, my lady."_

_And when the queen looked at him enquiringly, he duly explained. "When I was growing up here, my great uncle Brom used to tell me lots of stories. My favourite tale was about a prince called Amhar who was the son of a great king. The prince, even though he was young, was a great warrior and swordsman, and was always having great adventures, and could slay dragons and all manner of monsters, and I'd always thought that if I ever had a son of my own, I'd name him after that prince." Tom said the words with great enthusiasm, but then suddenly – in the presence of the queen – felt embarrassed at the presumption of naming his son after a mighty prince. He went red and began stammering out his words, "Un… unless, you think, your majesty, that the name is too grand."_

_Gwen laughed, "I think it's a __perfect__ name for the son of a knight of Camelot!" which was much to the relief of the child's father._

_Lily looked over to the queen: "Would you like to hold him, your majesty?"_

"_I think I would like that very much."_

_And so with great care, if not a little awkwardness, the two young women passed between them the precious bundle. _

_Gwen gazed down at the little life in her arms, and seemed almost entranced by him, a look of radiance on her face that almost matched that of Lily. _

_Tom piped up, delight in his voice, "It's like you said, your majesty, Lily and I have now a family to be part of again – a little family of our own."_

_But Lily caught a fleeting moment of sadness on Guinevere's face, which was, however, quickly covered over. Gwen suddenly looked down at the little boy again, and spoke with a lightness in her voice as she addressed him: "Well, Amhar – we have something in common, you and I. My father was called Tom, and so is yours, and I know that your father will look after you well as my father did for me." Gwen rocked him slightly as she said the words, and then added, "He's beautiful."_

"_Yes, but he did give me a hard time!"_

_Gwen smiled, "I heard!"_

_At that moment, however, the little face in the blanket creased up and the baby began to cry._

"_I'm sorry, your majesty. It's not you – I think he's hungry again."_

_Gwen looked down and addressed the child once more, "Well, I'm afraid I can't help you with that, so I'd better give you back to your mother!"_

_But as she did so, the fleeting look of sadness passed once more across Gwen's face._

_And when the baby was safely back in Lily's arms once more, she remarked to Guinevere, "He seems to want feeding almost constantly!" _

_And Gwen smiled again, "Well that's something that you and I have in common this time, Lily - living with a man who's always hungry and wanting his next meal!"_

~~~ O ~~~

_Those happy days following Amhar's birth were not to last, however, and were brought to a dreadful and abrupt end. The difficult birth had left Lily with injuries that, despite great care, became infected within days, and although Gaius attended to her, neither his medicine nor Merlin's surreptitious magic could halt her decline. As she worsened, it was impossible for her to feed the baby, and Gaius sent the infant away with Merlin as the tiny boy's screaming became incessant, crying for the milk that his mother could no longer give him. _

"_Don't worry," said Gaius, as he caught Tom's terrified expression at seeing the child taken away. "Merlin is taking him to a wet-nurse who will be able to feed him and see to his needs whilst we care for Lily. Martha will take good care of him."_

_The words seemed to bring some comfort to the new father, but the respite from his fear was short-lived when he saw Lily slipping from him. The hours crept passed, and she seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. As the end approached, Lily's eyes opened one last time, and she asked weakly to be able to hold her son once more. Merlin ran to fetch Martha, and before Lily drew her last breath, Amhar was laid on his mother's chest, and she was holding him as she slipped away._

_~~~ O ~~~_

_The following day, after Amhar had been fed, Martha left him with his father, and gave the young man both time with his son and time to grieve. The tears were freely flowing down his face when there was a light tap on the door, and the king of Camelot entered alone. A swiftly raised hand told Tom that he wasn't expected to rise to his feet, and instead Arthur pulled up a chair and sat opposite the grieving father, who was cradling his child. _

_Arthur started gently, "Tom – Guinevere and I are so sorry about Lily," and the young knight could tell by the tone in the king's voice that he truly meant what he said._

_Tom, however, felt ashamed of his tears, and tried to brush them away with the hand that wasn't holding Amhar as he apologised for them: "I'm sorry, your majesty."_

_Arthur sighed and shook his head, and when he spoke again it was softly and with feeling: "You remember that I told you and the other new knights that no man is worth your tears?"_

_Tom nodded without looking up._

"_Well, a good wife __is__ worth any and every husband's tears, a thousand times over. Do not be ashamed of grieving for the woman you loved."_

_Tom was silent but then blurted out in a voice full of misery, "But it's my fault. I knew we'd done wrong and would be punished!"_

_Arthur's tone was firm when he spoke, "This is __not__ punishment, Tom. Amhar was a gift to you both. We don't know why these things happen but it is not for any wrong that either you or Lily have done."_

_Tom's anguish seemed to lessen, and he looked down at his sleeping child again. It was the first time Arthur had seen him, and had Tom's attention not been on his son, he might have seen the same look of sadness pass briefly across the king's face as had been the case for the queen._

"_I don't know what I'm going to do, sire. I can't afford to pay Martha to keep looking after him."_

"_You needn't worry, Tom - that will be taken care of."_

_The words made him look up suddenly: "That wouldn't be right, sire – I should be able to provide for the lad myself."_

_But Arthur would not be moved: "I am your king, and you __will__ take what has been offered – that is an order."_

_The words clearly took a weight of Tom's mind, "Thank you, your majesty."_

_Arthur went on: "Guinevere will see to it that Amhar receives all he needs and is cared for whilst you continue with your duties as a knight of Camelot – but I will not expect to see you on the training field for the next three days."_

_And with that Arthur rose, laid a hand upon Tom's shoulder, and silently left him to his grief._

_~~~ O ~~~_

_The first weeks of the child's life were, however, overshadowed by the ever darkening threat from Morgana, and as Arthur and his knights prepared to leave for Camlann, a disagreement arose between the king and the queen._

"_You __cannot__ allow Tom to accompany you, Arthur!" Gwen was standing on one side of Arthur's desk as he stood on the other, studying yet again the numerous maps (some of them annotated with his notes by this time) that were strewn over the sturdy wooden table, trying to decide if he needed to take all of them with him to the battle._

_Arthur straightened up and looked at his wife: I've already spoken to him but he is adamant that he will still bear arms at Camlann."_

"_Then you must stop him, Arthur! His wife has just died, leaving a tiny child with only its father. Would you risk making an orphan of the infant by letting his father fight in a battle, when he has only been a knight for a few weeks and has never had any experience of warfare?"_

_Arthur knew the kindness in his wife's heart and it pained him to disagree with her when her motives were from love. "It would be dishonouring to Tom if I were to say or even imply I didn't think him ready for the battle. He has trained hard and deserves his place as a knight as much as any other."_

"_But surely his first duty is to take care of his child!"_

_Arthur walked round the table so that it wasn't a barrier between them: "Tom sees it differently, Guinevere. He feels it is his duty, first and foremost, as Amhar's father to protect him in any way he can, even at the cost of his life. To him, protecting Camelot from Morgana is the same as protecting his child. I'm sure I would feel the same if I were the father of a child."_

_The words were out of his mouth before he'd fully realised what he was saying. But the moment he'd said them, he immediately regretted them and wished with all his heart that he could take them back – and even more so when he saw that they had hit their unintended target. Gwen turned away, trying to hide the tears that quickly filled her eyes. Arthur walked quietly over to his wife and said softly, I'm so sorry, Guinevere – I didn't mean it like that." And when the only response he received was a stifled sob, he stood right behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He was well aware – as was his wife – that there were some in the court who saw the sole purpose of a queen as being to produce an heir, and an inability to do that as failure. The very attitude angered Arthur, particular when he knew the pain it brought to his wife. And so he gently said to her (and not for the first time), "You mean more to me than ten sons," adding with a whisper as he leant his head over her shoulder, "and I hope you can say the same of me." She nodded without speaking, and they stood together quietly like that for a long time, and the matter of Tom and the battle was spoken of no more._

~~~ O ~~~

Gwen opened her eyes again: "Tom died, at Camlann, didn't he?"

Martha nodded, confirming the queen's worst fears, "Yes, my lady."

Gwen sighed deeply, and once again looked down at the child in the nursemaid's arms - and made a decision, there and then. It was a decision that would affect the whole of her future and that of Camelot, but one that she knew without a shadow of a doubt would have had Arthur's whole-hearted blessing, and she never, ever lived to regret that decision for one moment: "I will take the child as my own."

Martha looked at her as if she hadn't heard correctly: "My lady?"

"I will adopt Amhar as my son."

Martha seemed unsure how to react, but when she saw the radiant look that had suddenly appeared on the queen's face, she knew exactly what to do, and with a smile she handed the little bundle over to Gwen: "Then here is your son, your majesty."

And as Martha left to fulfil the queen's instructions to run after Gaius and bring him back, Queen Guinevere stood in the middle of the royal chambers smiling down at the child with wonder on her face, almost overcome by the gift that had so unexpectedly been given to her. And her first words to her son were, "Well… you are a prince now, Amhar," and although Gwen would, in time, tell him of his real parents, she would also bring him up as a son of a great king.

_**Author's Note**_

_**I feel that this chapter also gives a greater meaning to what Arthur says in 5.05, about his fondness for Mordred – "it's that thing I do." Any comments on the above via a review are always appreciated. **_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Hunith only needed to look at Merlin's face as he walked towards her to know what was wrong. She understood her son well, and had never before seen him looking so utterly lost – and she knew that there was only one thing that could possibly leave him so devastated. Merlin had once again tried to put all thought out of his mind as he'd ridden towards his childhood home, needing to escape (at least for a while) the nightmare that he found himself in. But seeing his mother standing outside their home in Ealdor and the look of deep compassion on her face as he walked towards her, brought his feeble defences against the memory of all that happened crashing down, and he was barely in her arms before the sobbing began again.

"Arthur's gone, hasn't he?" offered Hunith, to save her son from having to speak.

Merlin, still in her embrace, just nodded.

When Merlin finally grew still, Hunith simply said, "Come inside, Merlin. You must be hungry from the journey. Come and rest and eat, and tell me everything that's happened."

Merlin nodded once again, and sat quietly once they'd gone into the small, unassuming dwelling as his mother busied herself, heating up some soup for him, and making some fresh flatbread to go with it. When Hunith put the steaming bowl on the table in front of him, she said quietly, "Just eat, Merlin – your words can wait," knowing that if he started speaking, it was likely that the simple meal would never be finished. Although hungry from the journey, the food had little flavour for Merlin, but he ate in silence as his mother sat beside him, resting a loving hand upon his arm. When the bowl was empty, Hunith rose, moved her hand to his shoulder, and said gently, "Come – sit by the fire with me and tell me your sorrows."

Once seated, Merlin stared at the flickering flames for a long time – all he could think of was the fiery dragon he had conjured from the campfire for Arthur. But he knew that he had to start further back than that – much further back - and he eventually began.

"There was a boy named Mordred…"

Hunith sat patiently, as Merlin poured out the whole story, often through tears, and she once more laid her hand lightly on his arm as he let his grief, his guilt, his regrets and his confusion come flooding out. Hunith's own heart ached to see her son looking so bereft – but she was wise. She didn't try to answer Merlin's questions or provide a remedy for his pain. She simply listened and loved her son. When Merlin had, after some considerable time, finally finished recounting all that had happened, he looked at his mother in despair and asked simply, "What am I supposed to do now?" She knew, of course, what was behind that question – _if he was born to serve Arthur, did that mean there was now no purpose to his life?_ Hunith took his hand in one of hers and gently stroked his head with the other, and just said, "Stay here with me, Merlin, and we will find the answer to that question together."

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin threw himself into village life, trying to blot out of his thinking the life he'd had in Camelot –that was the only way he knew to cope with the pain and the loss of Arthur. He fell into the regular rhythm of living in Ealdor, with the daily routine of shared labour with the animals and in the fields. He could, of course, have made every single task easier by using his magic, but that would have been just another painful reminder of all that had happened. He felt as if he never, ever wanted to use sorcery again – _it had been unable to save Arthur, so what was the point of it?_ Although Merlin channelled all his energies into the manual labour, the problem with it was, however, that it didn't occupy his mind greatly, and as the days slipped past, he found himself coming back again and again to the words that tormented him: if only. _If only he'd called Kilgharrah sooner, if only he'd urged Arthur to give a different answer to the Disir, if only he'd arrived at Camlann earlier, if only he'd done over the years what the dragon had said, if only he'd stopped Mordred, if only, if only, if only…._

Hunith sat evening after evening and let Merlin talk – and when he fell silent and when he was ready, she quietly and lovingly shared a mother's wisdom. She remembered what Merlin had told her on a previous occasion, and reminded him of the dragon's words: "You were told, weren't you Merlin, that no-one can choose their destiny and no-one can escape it?" Merlin nodded, and Hunith continued gently, "Don't you think, then, that whatever you had done, you still wouldn't have been able to change the fact that Arthur was going to die at Mordred's hand?"

Merlin sighed and eventually gave his grudging agreement, "I suppose so…."

"Maybe then, it's time to stop saying, _if only_. You were there for Arthur when he needed you – when he was facing a death he couldn't escape, and you walked with him as far as you could, to the very end, and helped him find peace. You could not have served him better, Merlin, and by the sounds of it, he knew it."

And even though he did not speak it out loud, Merlin began to accept that his mother was right. But even so, as had been the case with Guinevere, a broken heart takes time to heal.

But healing did slowly come, as the days turned into weeks. Merlin began to find comfort rather than escape in the simple rhythm of life in a small farming community – a life that required little of him but the work of his hands. And gradually Hunith started to see a change in her son. He began to talk about his life in Camelot and about Arthur, telling her stories that were as yet unknown to her. There were times when he would even smile – and occasionally laugh – at the telling of some exchange between him and the king, or a new tale of their shared story.

And Hunith also began to a notice a restlessness in her son, and his gaze would sometimes linger on the mountains that stood between Ealdor and the lands of Camelot – and he began to use magic again (although guardedly in the village) mending something here, moving something there. Hunith wasn't sure whether Merlin was really even aware of this change in himself, and so one evening as they shared a meal of rabbit stew (the rabbit having fallen prey to a glance from Merlin's eyes as a certain rat also once had), Hunith fell silent and fixed her gaze on Merlin – until he noticed.

"What?"

"What are you going to do, Merlin?"

The question might have been about a thousand and one different things, but Merlin knew immediately to what she was referring: his future.

"I'm not sure…"

But she knew her son: "I think you do know, Merlin." His brow furrowed slightly and Hunith paused before continuing: "If I were to ask you, what would Arthur want you to do, what would you say?"

Merlin gave a wry smile – _his mother certainly did know him well!_ For that was the question that had been burning in his heart for several days – and he knew the answer almost without having to think about it. H_e knew Arthur better than he knew himself, and besides, Arthur had told him more than once before when he'd thought he was going to die what he wanted him to do – look after Gwen. Admittedly, those times had been before she was queen, but now Arthur also knew of the powers that he possessed, and what he was capable of._ Merlin let out a deep sigh and then spoke: "He'd want me to help and protect both Guinevere and the kingdom he built." And in that one single sentence he knew he had his life's work.

"So you'll return to Camelot?"

And when Merlin nodded, Hunith added, "I think you've been away long enough, don't you- why not leave tomorrow?"

Merlin took his mother's hands in his, "I'll miss you!"

"And I you, Merlin." Hunith paused: "I know I've said it before, but I'm so proud of you."

Merlin grinned, "Come and visit us in Camelot – I know Gwen will want to see you again."

"Maybe I will, Merlin – maybe I will."

"I won't take no for an answer – no 'maybe's!"

Hunith relented and smiled: "Alright, I will come when we've harvested."

Merlin looked at the woman who'd given birth to him, and who now had also helped him to find life beyond death, and said simply, "Thank you, mother- for everything."

~~~ O ~~~

As Merlin put his head down for the last time on the rough pillow lying on the straw mattress on the floor of his mother's house, he wondered what the future would hold for him. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was doing the right thing, returning to Camelot, but as he drifted off into sleep, it was also with a deep ache in his heart for the friend whom he still missed so greatly. He did, however, sleep more soundly than he had done since Arthur's death – soundly, that is, until he sat bolt upright in bed as the room was suddenly flooded with light, as if it were broad daylight. And there, standing only a few feet away from him was Arthur – not dressed in his armour and chainmail, as he had been the last time Merlin had seen him, but in the familiar white tunic, trousers and boots that Merlin knew so well. Merlin sat, propping himself up on one arm, his heart pounding and too dumbfounded to speak. He stared, open-mouthed, wanting to say Arthur's name but finding that the words wouldn't come. And Arthur stood there, full of life, just looking back at him, with a broad smile on his face that seemed to radiate contentment and peace. Arthur didn't speak either, but continued smiling, until it seemed as if he suddenly heard someone calling him – although Merlin heard no voice – for he turned his head slightly as if he was listening to someone behind him, before turning back towards Merlin. He then gave him a small nod as if to say goodbye, and turned to go, but as he began walking away, he looked back over his shoulder – and gave Merlin a cheeky grin. It was at that point that Merlin finally found his voice and called out Arthur's name – but doing so woke him into a room that was dark, and he realised he'd been dreaming.

_Except….._

Although the room was dark, there was a deep peace that seemed to enfold Merlin, so intense that it almost felt as if he was wrapped in a thick blanket – and it seemed at that moment as if it was impossible to be sad. The feeling lingered as Merlin lay there - now wide awake - savouring the memory of what had happened.

He knew it was a dream, but that didn't make it any less real – because he also knew with absolute certainty that Arthur had come to him – and that somehow, all would be well.

_**Author's note**_

_**That was a bit of an interim chapter – the last two (or it might be three, depending on how I decide to divide the material) are going to be more fun!**_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

_**Author's note**_

_**OK, this turned out to be another chapter of transition, given that I ended it sooner rather than later (it's still 4000 words!) This is the **__**days **__**that followed, and the two last chapters will be the **__**decades **__**and the **__**centuries**__**! (both already largely written)**_

Merlin brought his horse to a halt as they crested the ridge that brought the turrets of Camelot's towers into view. The city was bathed in the warm light of later summer, and Merlin sat motionless for several moments, just taking in the scene. He remembered the sense of wonder he'd had on glimpsing it for the first time; instead of wonder, there was now just a feeling of coming home to the place he belonged. It had been almost four months since he'd left, and he couldn't help but feel a fresh ache in his heart as he saw once again the place where he'd first met Arthur all those years ago. He thought back to that earliest meeting, and how he'd called Arthur 'friend'. Neither of them could have possibly foreseen just how significant that word was going to be to both of them, and before Merlin urged his horse forward once again, he whispered into the gentle breeze that was blowing across the hillside, "I'll look after them for you, Arthur – Guinevere, Camelot , Albion…"

The ride into Camelot itself felt strange, because although everything looked so familiar, it nevertheless felt different, knowing that much had changed forever with the death of Arthur. And even though Merlin had only been away for a few months, he very quickly began to notice some differences. The first was the reaction of the guards at the gates. Although they immediately recognised Merlin, there was something new. They nodded to him respectfully rather than genially as they would have done before, and Merlin thought he even detected a hint of wariness in their faces.

The second change puzzled him. He was, by this time, walking, having decided to lead his horse by the reins so he could pass more slowly through the streets and take in better the sights, sounds and smells of the city once more. Just before he reached the drawbridge which marked the entrance into the citadel, he saw a new statue – although he quickly realised his mistake: it wasn't a new statue, it was one with which he was very familiar but just in a different place. He stopped for a moment to look on the horse and its rider which had always been at the bottom of the main steps into the citadel. Merlin suddenly realised with a grin that despite having passed the memorial hundreds of times, he still hadn't a clue whose statue it was. He wondered what the reason was behind moving it – but he was about to find out. He walked across the drawbridge, under the portcullis and into the main courtyard – and his heart almost stopped, because there was Arthur. Not, of course, his friend back from the dead, but his likeness cast in bronze, and now standing on a new plinth where the horse and rider had previously been. And as Merlin walked across the cobbles of the square, still leading the horse, he didn't for a moment take his eyes off the new statue. Arthur was standing, feet slightly apart, with both hands resting on the hilt of the sword that Merlin knew so well, which itself was standing vertical, with its tip on the ground. Arthur was depicted in his familiar armour, with a cloak bearing the dragon motifs billowing out slightly behind him, as if caught by a breeze, and his head was raised, as if he were looking out, ever watchful over Camelot. Merlin looked up into the features of the motionless face – _they had caught his likeness well – _and there was only one word that could describe the look of the king's face: noble. And on the front of the plinth there were these words on three lines: _Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, Father of Albion_. Merlin stood as still as the statue itself, looking up at it: _yes, Arthur – you may not have fathered an heir but you fathered a whole nation. _

"It was bad enough that you left without saying goodbye – "

Merlin's silent reflection was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the familiar voice calling out across the courtyard, and he spun round, a grin on his face, only to find himself lifted up off the ground and held in a great bear-hug.

Merlin cried out "Percival!" but his voice was somewhat muffled by the crushing embrace of the gentle giant:

"- did you honestly think you could sneak back in without saying hello?"

"Put me down!"

"Welcome back, Merlin!" came the calmer voice of Sir Leon, and Merlin was swift to embrace the second knight as soon as Percival finally allowed Merlin's feet to find the ground again.

"A man might think he was being ignored!" came a third voice, and Merlin whirled round and exclaimed in utter surprise, "Tristan! What are you doing here?"

Tristan grinned at the other two knights, "You keep telling me how clever Merlin is, and yet he seems unable to see the blindingly obvious!" which was his way of making reference to the fact that he was standing there, like the others, in chainmail and the red cloak of Camelot.

Merlin protested, "I can see perfectly well that you're a knight, but I thought that…. didn't you say…."

Tristan gave a little good-natured shrug of his shoulders: "A man is free to change his mind, if he wants." What Tristan wasn't saying, of course, was that he'd heard all about the battle at Camlann, and about the fact that not only had Arthur fallen, but also many of his knights. He'd remembered how Arthur had been a support to him after Isolde's death and had offered him a fresh start, and he had therefore decided that it was time to fulfil his debt of gratitude. The queen had welcomed him gladly and gratefully, and so he became possibly the unlikeliest new recruit to fill one of the poignant empty spaces at the Round Table.

A little mischievous smile then came to the knight's face: "Besides, smuggling was getting so that it didn't pay, after You Know Who changed all the taxes!"

Knowing exactly to whom Tristan was referring, all four of them together turned their gazes on Arthur's statue and fell silent, not because they felt it was their duty to do so, but because each of them was honouring his memory in their hearts and minds as they stood not speaking for several moments.

Eventually, Merlin broke the silence, "When did the statue go up?"

Tristan was the one to answer, "Within the last ten days – magnificent, isn't it?"

"It had to be – for a magnificent king," added Percival.

After a few more moments of silence, they all tore their gaze away from Arthur's likeness, and back to one another, and Leon asked with a twinkle in his eye, "So, how is Camelot's mighty sorcerer?"

Merlin had momentarily forgotten that it was not just because of Arthur's death that all had changed. And he looked at them anxiously, not knowing what their reaction had been to the revelation which was, by this time, known to the whole of the city - and also not knowing that the laws against magic had been repealed. But any anxieties on Merlin's part were soon dispelled.

Leon suddenly broke into a grin, "Don't look so worried! You're not about to be hanged! It's not a crime any more to have magic."

Gwen and Gaius had, between them, succeeded in bringing about a change in the laws much easier than either of them could have hoped. The queen had explained the reasons behind the Great Purge, not being under the same oath as Gaius to keep the facts of Arthur's birth a secret. Gaius had spoken of the use of and safeguards against the abuse of magic that had existed before that time, and Geoffrey had cited the old laws that had sufficed for that purpose for many, many years. Leon and Percival had been easy allies to bring to the cause, with both of them (helped by information from Gaius) having spoken of how not only the battle of Camlann but many other clashes with evil had been saved by Merlin's magic. The appeal to the council had finally been concluded by Gwen telling them of Arthur's acceptance of Merlin and of magic before his death. Although many questions and much debate had followed, the strength of the arguments (and those who made them) were far too great to oppose and the change was overwhelmingly accepted. And so it was that the laws that had led to so much slaughter and mistrust were finally repealed.

The stunned look on Merlin's face made the three knights grin. Percival then shook his head as remembered the encounter they'd had with Merlin's elderly incarnation, and glanced at Leon and then back at the warlock, "I still can't believe that you single-handedly defeated us that time, together with Gwaine and Elyan, and then walked over us to climb up on your horse!"

Merlin remembered the occasion well, when the four knights had tried to apprehend him in the forest – and had ended up in a pile on the floor. Percival just looked at him and shook his head again in wonder, "Who'd have thought it?"

But any further comments on the subject where interrupted by the sight of the queen flying down the steps in a manner that wasn't entirely regal.

Tristan piped up, "Your majesty, we've just apprehended this stranger who was attempting to enter the city unannounced. What would you like us to do with him?"

But Gwen ignored the jest: "Merlin!" and before he knew it, Gwen had flung her arms around him and was holding him tight. "I knew you'd come back!"

When they finally pulled apart, Gwen stood looking Merlin up and down with a broad smile on her face: "You look well."

"As do you."

But they both fell silent for a moment, suddenly acutely aware of the reason they parted and of the one who stood towering above them and in whose shadow they were standing. But neither needed to mention his name – they knew that Arthur had a place in both their hearts which would never change, and whether they spoke of him or not, they knew that he would never be far from their thoughts.

Gwen shook her head slightly, and then went on, "Merlin – it is so good to see you. Come and join me – I'll have the kitchens bring some food up for you. I'm sure you must be hungry from the journey," and then added coyly, "and there's someone I'd like you to meet!" Merlin looked at her, the unspoken question clear on his face. But as if to answer it, a figure suddenly appeared at the top of the steps holding a young child and caught the queen's eye.

"Ah, there you are Martha!" Gwen turned back to face Merlin: "I'd like you to meet Camelot's new prince."

A look of genuine shock appeared on Merlin's face – and for the smallest amount of time he wondered if he'd been wrong about Arthur not fathering an heir – but his mental calculation of the months together with his mind telling him it couldn't possibly be put him right on the matter.

"It's Amhar,"smiled Gwen, and without needing to be told, Merlin rapidly put the pieces together in his mind from Gwen's simple explanation - and was glad.

The queen continued, "And that's not the only change that's happened in Camelot – " but suddenly broke off. "But I'm forgetting – you'll want to see Gaius first."

"He'd never forgive me if I don't search him out straight away."

"Quite right," laughed Gwen, her heart lifted at seeing one of her oldest and dearest friends once again.

"Well, come and see me when you've let him know you're back."

Merlin nodded, "I will," but then saw a look pass between all the others that he didn't understand, though he could see enough to work out that it was almost as if they knew a secret that he didn't. But any thought on what that might be was interrupted by Leon's request.

"Your majesty, we do however beg you not to keep him too long, as we will need to have his company tonight in the Rising Sun."

Gwen laughed again, "How could I refuse the Captain of the knights of Camelot?"

Merlin looked at the knight, "Captain?"

"Apparently Arthur told our queen that Leon was to take over should anything ever happen to him," offered Percival, and then added with a grin, "We try not to give him too hard a time."

It was the first time that Arthur's name had been spoken, and Merlin found that his heart was no longer pierced at the very mention of his name. Instead he was profoundly grateful to be back in the place where, more than anywhere else, his friend's name was highly honoured and spoken with love.

"No one deserves it more than you, Leon," replied Merlin, and then he turned to the queen again: "I won't be too long with Gaius, I promise."

_And there was that look again._

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin stood outside the door to Gaius' rooms - the rooms that had also been his for all his time in Camelot – and took a deep breath. He pushed open the door in the way he always did, as if he had never left, calling out as he did so, "I'm back!"

And there was Gaius, as he so often was, standing at the table by his little burner, swishing some foul-tasting potion or other around in a small glass vial.

"My boy! My dear boy!"

Whatever the potion was to have been, it would now never be, as the vial and its content both ended up spoiled on the wooden table as Gaius abandoned his work and rushed over to fling his arms around the young warlock. When they finished their embrace, Gaius stepped back and put his hands on Merlin's shoulders. He studied the young man in front of him, and could see that he was a different person to the grief-stricken one who'd left those months earlier.

"When did you get back?"

But before Merlin could open his mouth to reply, the bedroom door opened: "I thought I heard voices….."

And Merlin's mouth did fall open, but for a very different reason, as he looked towards the bedroom and then back at Gaius.

"Merlin, I'd like you to meet…."

"Alice – yes I know! We've met before, remember?"

But Gaius started again, "Merlin, I'd like you to meet my wife."

"WIFE!"

"Is that all you've got to say, Merlin?" asked Gaius with an amused look on his face.

But before Merlin could find his voice, Alice had walked over and given him a warm embrace, saying as they pulled apart, "I'm sorry that I've – " (she corrected herself) " that we've taken your bedroom. I hope you don't mind too much?"

Merlin finally managed to string a sentence of sorts together, "No, of course not. But how…? And when…? And….. oh, congratulations!"

Gaius put his elderly arm around Alice. She had been the only love of his life, and when they were younger before the Great Purge she had shown a rare talent for healing magic and had been a blessing to many who were sick in Camelot and beyond. Uther's Purge had forced them apart, and when she had returned to Camelot only a few years earlier, had found herself sentenced to death for a crime that she had been compelled to commit – and had fled the city.

As Gaius began to explain what had happened, it warmed Merlin's heart to see the look of love on both of the elderly couple's faces. "The queen wanted me to have some help with the healing work, as you were gone and I had to give time to the re-writing of Camelot's laws. I was bold enough to ask for a pardon for Alice and she was kind enough to grant it. I sent for Alice, although it took some time to find her, and she graciously accepted my offer of marriage on her return here."

Alice added, "We both so wanted you to be here for the wedding, but…." She broke off, not sure of how to phrase the explanation.

Merlin saved them the embarrassment, and said with a grin, "You couldn't wait?"

Gaius went on, "We didn't know how long you'd been gone and, to tell the truth, after twenty five years, we thought we'd waited long enough already."

Merlin smiled warmly at the couple, "I'm glad for you both – I truly am!" And they could both hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Here! Why are we still standing? – let's sit together, " exclaimed Gaius, indicating the seats at the end of the table that wasn't covered in potion. "When did you get back, by the way?"

"Only a short while ago – I would have been here earlier, " and Merlin grinned as they both sat down, "but I bumped into a few people I knew!"

Alice stayed on her feet : "You must be hungry! I think I've still got some of the stew left from lunch – I'll heat it up for you."

Merlin nodded to Alice, "Thank you – that would be lovely."

And Gaius leaned across the table and in a mock whisper, loud enough for Alice to hear added, "She's a much better cook than me!"

Alice smiled, and busied herself by the stove as Merlin and Gaius eagerly began the task of catching up with each other.

"How's Gwen been?" asked Merlin with concern on his face.

Gaius took his glasses off and began to polish them: "She thought at first that she would never be able reign without Arthur. I needed to remind her of Arthur's faith in her – and of the fact that even Arthur didn't rule by himself."

"The Round Table?"

Gaius nodded, "Not that it was easy at first…." and he then proceeded to tell Merlin about the first of their meetings.

There had been too many empty spaces at the table, and every person was, of course, acutely aware of the unoccupied seat at Gwen's right hand, the seat that was closest to the thrones: Arthur's seat. The seat that had belonged to Gwaine had also been empty – but not only his. Mordred had previously taken Elyan's place at the table and now that seat was also unoccupied. It had been a hideous reminder – as all the empty seats had been – of what had happened and of the high cost of the peace that they now enjoyed. And it had been part of the business of the first meeting of the Round Table to decide who should fill those seats – apart from Arthur's. His would always remain empty, both to honour his memory and also to remind all those present of the values that Arthur stood for and that they would seek to uphold. There had been a moment, however, in that first meeting of the Round Table, when Gwen had opened her mouth and turned to her right, as if she had momentarily forgotten that her husband was no longer there. They had all seen her freeze for a moment, then compose herself, and continue – doing as Arthur had done so many times before: burying personal feelings, griefs and sorrows for the sake of the throne and the people.

As food was laid before Merlin, their conversation continued, with tales of all that had happened in both Ealdor and Camelot, and so it was not until two hours later that Merlin finally excused himself and made his way over to see Gwen. A similar conversation ensued with the queen, although this time, instead of a new wife, there was a new son to be the third party to all that was said. It lightened Merlin's heart to see the new life that was so clearly bringing joy to a heart that was still struggling with grief. Merlin had always been aware of the depth of kindness and love that had been in Gwen's heart, whether a serving girl or queen, and having lost one love of her life, it seemed that providence had granted her another person into whom she could pour her love and goodness. The rigours of both monarchy and motherhood, however, left her tired long before she had been before, and so after an apology following a stifled yawn, she added, "I think I have already kept you to myself far too long anyway. I believe you need to be somewhere else."

And Merlin suddenly put his head back and laughed. "Gaius could never think of any decent excuses to give to Arthur when I was off using magic. Arthur ended up thinking I spent all my time in the tavern, so it'll be nice to actually be there for once!"

They fell quiet for a moment, and before he rose to leave, Merlin finally asked the question that had remained unspoken: "You miss him still, though?"

Gwen nodded: "I sit in the window at the end of each day and speak to him. I don't know if he hears me or not, but it helps," and then she added, "Please, Merlin – you will come and tell me everything, won't you? I want to know the part you played in our story that I don't yet know. "

Merlin smiled as he rose to his feet, "It might take a while…."

"Then there will be all the more to enjoy."

Merlin gave a little bow, which prompted the light-hearted reply, "You know you don't have to bow to me, don't you, Merlin? You never did to Arthur."

"Ah, but you don't call me an idiot!"

And Gwen laughed.

As Merlin put his hand on the door to go, Gwen suddenly called out to him, "I almost forgot. We've prepared Elyan's old room for you – I hope you like it."

As the room wasn't far down the corridor and as he had to pass it anyway, Merlin couldn't resist putting his head around the door. He grinned: _a big bed and soft pillows! This was going to be novel. _The furnishings were far beyond anything he'd ever experienced for himself before, but it was the large desk by the window that caught his eye, because in the middle of the desk, in plain sight, was a large book. It was the book of magic that Gaius had given him when he'd first arrived in Camelot, and propped up against the book was a little card with his name on the front. He picked it up and read the three words on the back: "Thank you. Gwen."

The thick mattress on the bed looked inviting, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he didn't make an appearance at the Rising Sun. But he didn't regret going when he finally arrived there. He found himself being dragged over and forcibly sat down at a table with the three knights. Once Leon had put a tankard of ale into Merlin's hand, Percival began with a good-natured smile: "You have a lot of explaining to do."

And Merlin swiftly learned that Tristan was a worthy successor to Gwaine in his affections as well as in the Tavern's fortunes, a fact that Merlin began to learn as soon as the knight cut in after Percival's words: "But what we really want to know first is, can you conjure us up some free ale?"

~~~ O ~~~

Merlin tore himself away before the evening became too late and whilst he was still largely in control of both his legs and arms. As he slowly walked up through the streets of Camelot, he found that rather than grieving him it now brought him comfort and that, like Gwen, it was also possible for him to cherish the memories of Arthur that it stirred within his heart and mind. And he could also now see for himself in the flourishing of Camelot the truth of Kilgharrah's words to him: that all had been fulfilled. Albion finally seemed real.

He stood in the now deserted courtyard next to Arthur's statue, looked up and said quietly, "We did it Arthur! We really did do it, together."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_**Author's note**_

_**So, the penultimate chapter! This is a series of little pictures of how the years following Arthur's death unfolded. Nothing major plot-wise, but just some snippets of how it might have been. Hope you enjoy it!**_

"Court Sorcerer?" exclaimed Merlin with a laugh. "Me? With that title?"

Gwen looked at him, slightly puzzled as to why what had seemed such a good idea to her should be greeted with such obvious mirth by Merlin: "What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know…. It just sounds a bit too much as if I'll be doing conjuring feats for the entertainment of the whole court - like being a magical Court Jester. Although, come to think of it, Arthur would have thought that – or Court Fool – a perfectly good title for me!"

Gwen laughed, "But we have to call you something, Merlin! You can't have a place at the Round Table with the title _The Person Who Used To Be King Arthur's Manservant_!"

"Why not just _Friend of Camelot_?"

Gwen relented slightly: "_Friend __and__ Counsellor of Camelot_, and I will be satisfied."

Merlin grinned, knowing that it was time to yield to the queen and give her what she wanted – a title for him – and so he nodded.

A little sound suddenly emerged from the cot that was not far away from where they both sat in the royal chambers. Gwen pushed the empty plate in front of her away and rose from her chair at the table, and then wandered over to look down at the child, to check whether the prince was still sleeping. She smiled and gently stroked Amhar's fair hair as he stirred and then settled back down to sleep again.

"And now, Merlin, having sorted out the business for tonight, come over and join me by the fire and tell me your story – I want to know everything."

And that was the pattern of many evenings that followed, as Merlin gradually told the true tale of Camelot's greatest secret and Arthur's greatest protector. Every story that Gwen knew so well was transformed by Merlin's narration, and many were the exclamations of delight, surprise and even shock. There were also at many point tears, both shed and those that remained unshed but which filled their eyes, as memories of Arthur were stirred again and again. Although the grief that they both shared had lost the sharp and almost unbearable pain it had held at first, it did still have the power to stir a deep ache within their hearts. But memories of their dearest friend were now bitter-sweet rather than merely bitter.

And as the recounting of the tales drew near to an end, Gwen urged the story-teller, "Write it down Merlin – write it all down."

When Merlin looked hesitant, feeling that it would be something of a self-congratulatory exercise, Gwen continued, "Geoffrey of Monmouth will undoubtedly write his own history of these times, but he will not know the full stories. Promise me, Merlin, that one day you will write the true account of all that has happened."

Merlin smiled and conceded: "I promise."

There was, however, one omission in Merlin's re-telling that he'd hoped Gwen wouldn't notice – but she did. But she didn't mention it until the very end – when she had to summon up her courage to voice the question the answer to which she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

"And what of Lancelot, when he returned – is there nothing that should be added to that?"

When she saw the hesitancy in his eyes, she pushed him. "Merlin – I would know the truth of all that happened, however hard."

Merlin's reticence had only been a desire not to open an old wound and revive memories of a time that both Arthur and Gwen had been able to put behind them and forget. He sighed and nodded. "Very well," and he then proceeded to tell of all that he knew of Morgana and Agravaine's involvement and of how Lancelot's shade rather than the real knight had walked among them. He did finish, however, by telling how he'd been able to bringing peace to Lancelot's spirit at the last as he sent the body off on a burial boat.

Gwen was thoughtful for a while, and then said with a deep sigh, "I wish Arthur could have known that Lancelot never broke faith with him."

Merlin smiled and said quietly, "I guess he knows now."

Thoughts of the true Lancelot and Arthur re-united beyond death brought both of them almost immediately a strange comfort as they imagined the king and his fallen companions being together again.

The queen sighed as memories of Lancelot filled her mind, "He was such a faithful friend to Camelot and to Arthur – he didn't deserve for it to end as it did, given that he gave so much." But as the two of them sat in silence for a few moments, her last four words seemed to lodge in her mind, leading to a sudden thought that made her heart suddenly beat faster.

"Merlin….?" began Gwen slowly.

"Hmmm?" replied Merlin, as he was dragged away from his own memories.

"You've told me stories of how both Uther and Arthur fell under enchantments that made them fall in love against their wills?"

"Yes, that's right."

Gwen continued, still speaking slowly but with an excitement that could now be heard in her voice: "Could the same sort of enchantment be brought about by an object – a piece of jewellery like a bracelet, for example?"

Merlin immediately thought of the Eye of the Phoenix that Morgana had given Arthur. "I don't see why not. Why do you ask?"

~~~ O ~~~

It took several days and not a small amount of effort and assurances to all who had served as prison guards to track down the silver bracelet that Gwen had cast aside in the cell where she had been imprisoned after having been discovered with Lancelot, two nights before she and Arthur were to be wed. As Gaius held the bracelet and turned it over in his hands, glasses sitting on the end of his nose as he examined the silver object carefully, he simply confirmed what Gwen and Merlin were already convinced of.

"I am almost certain that this has had an enchantment laid upon it at some point, your majesty."

Gwen almost cried with relief. "I couldn't understand afterwards why I'd been drawn to Lancelot – I had no answer to give Arthur."

"And now we know why," added Merlin.

Gwen's relief, however, rapidly turned into something rather less comfortable, "And did it not occur to either of you that my behaviour may have had something to do with an enchantment, given that you already knew that Lancelot was a shade summoned from the dead by Morgana?"

Merlin and Gaius turned to look at one another, lost for words, and then turned back to the queen.

"Alas, my lady – the answer to that particular question appears to be, _no_."

The fact that Gwen could roll her eyes so well was largely due to having seen Arthur do it so many times when with Merlin.

"If Arthur were still here, Merlin, I'm sure you would be heading for the stocks at this very moment."

"Me? Why do I always get the blame? Gaius is as much to blame as me!"

"Given his years, we could hardly subject him to such an ordeal…."

"But it's fine to do it to me?"

"Of course!" But the resulting expression on Merlin's face as she said the words melted away any last vestiges of exasperation that she felt, and there was, then, a twinkle in the queen's eye as she continued: "In fact, I'm sure Arthur would have made you take Gaius's punishment as well!"

"Thanks!" But then Merlin added with a little grin, "But seeing as Arthur isn't here, you're prepared to overlook the slight oversight on our part?"

And Gwen just smiled and nodded.

~~~ O ~~~

It was shortly after this that Merlin returned to Avalon, but this time with the queen, who wanted to see where Arthur rested. Both stood silently, gazing out onto the lake that was so still that it was almost a perfect mirror, reflecting the tower on the island clearly on its flat surface. Both had brought something with them. Gwen, for her part, had brought some white gillyflowers, and she cast them out onto the lake as she whispered her words of love and her goodbye to Arthur, her eyes full of unshed tears as she did so. Merlin, however, had brought something more permanent. He took from the saddle of his horse a sizeable square of granite, into which – with the aid of magic - he had carved the words: _Here lies Arthur, the Once and Future King._

He struggled with the stone over to the place on the shore that was closest, from memory, to the point from which he had launched the boat and its occupant on their final journey. With Gwen standing next to him, Merlin laid the stone on the grass a little way from the water's edge, and uttered words of magic in the ancient tongue. With those words, the stone sank by itself down into the ground, until its surface was just standing proud of the grass around it.

Then Merlin spoke once more: "Ahefigie mid pare swaernese pusenda geara" - and his eyes flashed gold again.

There was no obvious result from these words of magic, so the queen turned towards Merlin, the question as to its purpose on her face. Merlin answered simply: "It now has the weight of a thousand mill-stones. No person will ever move this stone from where it now lies."

And with those words spoken, they both fell silent once again. And in both their minds, the same question: _how long would the wait be until Arthur's return?_

~~~ O ~~~

Just as Gwen had settled into her new roles as sovereign and mother, Merlin also began to find his place in the city that had changed so much in such a short time. _Friend and Counsellor of Camelot_ was a role that he more or less made up as he went along (an art he had perfected whilst working alongside Arthur). It seemed to involve sitting on the Round Table whenever it met (advising particularly on all matters pertaining to the use of sorcer), employing his magic when an obstacle that seemed to be otherwise insurmountable presented itself, and generally protecting the city from magical creatures, errant sorcerers and would-be challengers to the throne, although there seemed to be precious little of any of these following the defeat of Morgana and the rout of the Saxons. In addition, he accompanied the queen on trips throughout the five kingdoms and beyond, the first trip to see Queen Annis being particularly memorable for him. She had looked at him with an expression of incredulity on her face: "So playing Arthur's fool was just an act to hide your identity? You played it well, sorcerer!"

As Annis then turned to Guinevere to make another comment, Leon leaned over towards Merlin and whispered in his ear, "I suppose you'd rather I didn't tell her that that was actually just you being yourself."

And Merlin managed to hiss back "Shut up, Leon," without his lips even appearing to move.

_Friend and Counsellor of Camelot _also seemed to involve one more notable challenge – and that was fending off the younger citizens of Camelot every time he walked through its streets. The children of the city loved him, of course, and never tired of asking him to entertain them: "Show us some magic, Merlin!"

Although he would sometimes mutter to himself, "Huh - Court Sorcerer after all!", if he ever dared to even threaten to disappoint them, the young warlock would inevitably be met by a loud chorus of "Pleeeeeeeeese!" coming from at least half a dozen different voices. And just as he had once delighted Freya with his skills, he would produce – from seemingly nowhere – butterflies, flowers, and all manner of showers of sparks and flames, to their cries of delight. But the request that he'd hear most often was, without fail, the cry, "Conjure a dragon!" And, without fail, every time a dragon then rose into flight from the embers of a fire, Merlin thought of Arthur.

His new role did also give him access to the vaults of Camelot and to the magical artefacts that had been kept there under lock and key, often for many years. But it was the presence of one of the items that had been deposited there more recently that began to play on Merlin's mind as it drew near to the first anniversary of Arthur's death, stirring up again the deep ache within his heart. But as the desire to use the potent channel of magic grew ever stronger within him, Merlin showed his wisdom by travelling not to the Great Stones of Nemeton but to the Crystal Cave.

Merlin stood amongst the glowing stones, remembering the previous time he'd been there and all that had followed from those events. His heart was churning within him, and the grief that had become bearable felt raw and agonising once again. He knew that there was no reason to think that his father would appear to him again, but his heavy heart hoped that it would be the case, at least on this one occasion. And he was not disappointed.

"My son, you have come seeking me."

Merlin whirled round towards the voice he heard behind him, but saw no shining form as he'd done before. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his father was there with him, and that was enough. His smile widened, "Father!"

Again the voice echoed around him, "What is on your heart, my son?"

Merlin hesitated, and then said, "Kilgharrah is dead, isn't he?"

Merlin had felt it in his heart, shortly after he'd returned to Camelot. There had been a moment when an unspeakable sadness had suddenly swept over him, and he knew it had nothing to do with Arthur. He'd stood out on the familiar open space, not far from Camelot, and used the words he'd cried out so many times before to summon the dragon, but even before the last syllable had left his mouth, he'd already known that the dragon would not come – and why.

Merlin heard something that almost sounded like a sigh coming from the very stones around him, and then after a moment he heard his father's voice answering him.

"The heart of the last dragonlord does not betray him. Trust your senses, Merlin – they are true."

But then after a little pause, his father spoke again: "But that was not the question you have journeyed here to ask me."

And Merlin knew it was pointless to hide the matter about which he'd come.

"I was thinking of using the Horn of Cathbhadh, but I think that maybe that would be wrong?"

Merlin had left out the most important detail, of course: who from among the dead he intended to summon. But Balinor didn't need to him to speak the name – he already knew it. A part of Merlin was desperately hoping, however, that his father would disagree with him, so great was the ache within him to see Arthur and to speak to him - but it was not to be.

"You are right, Merlin. You are wise not to use it. It is a powerful instrument of magic, but no good has ever come from its use."

Balinor knew that his son accepted what he said, but he also knew there was a longing deep within Merlin's soul and that there was still more that he wanted to say: "Speak, my son, and tell me what is on your heart."

Merlin tried to find the words that he needed, but ended up just blurting out, "Have you seen him? Have you seen Arthur?"

"None are hidden in the halls in which I walk."

"And is he happy?" Merlin already knew the answer but it didn't stop him asking the question.

"Where he is, it is impossible not to be so."

Merlin paused, summoning up the courage to ask his next question: "Can you give him a message from me?"

When Balinor spoke again, there was kindness and compassion in his voice, and he said gently, "No, Merlin – it is not permitted."

His father knew the hope that was dashed within him, and spoke again to him with the same gentleness: "What would you have said to him?"

"I wanted….. I wanted to tell him that I miss him – and that I will wait for him, however long it takes."

Balinor's voice echoed softly in the cave as he spoke again: "There is no need to tell him those things he already knows."

The dragonlord who had sired Merlin would have laid a comforting hand upon his son's shoulder had they resided in the same world as each other, so instead Balinor simply said, "The river of grief runs deep, my son, but your heart is healing and the pain will pass."

But Merlin then blurted out his final question: "When will he return?"

This time Balinor's voice was quieter, as if the distance between them was suddenly increasing, "You already know the answer, Merlin…."

When Merlin replied his voice was flat, disappointment echoing in his every word: "… When Albion's need is greatest." But he then added, "But when will that be?"

And Merlin heard his father's final words as if they had been spoken so far away that they came to him as little more than a whisper: "Take heart, my son – the waiting will not last forever. Arthur's day will come….."

And suddenly Merlin was left alone, with the word _come_ echoing softly off the crystals until all that was left was silence.

The answer had been the one he'd already known deep down in his heart, but he'd needed his father's confirmation to give him the strength to keep to the right path, and as he travelled back from the Crystal Cave he resolved to destroy the horn and put it beyond further use forever. But when he searched the vaults he could not find it, but any questions about its whereabouts were soon forgotten in the busyness of his new life in Camelot.

~~~ O ~~~

There had been, ever since Camlann, one issue that he'd kept returning to: Aithusa. He knew that the dragon was out there – somewhere – and that the one person that the young dragon had known and cherished was dead. Although the dragon had been an enemy to them on the battlefield, Merlin's previous encounters with Aithusa had left his heart aching for the little creature that he had brought into the world through his own command – and had then named. And so one night, he went out again into the open country around Camelot and starting calling out in the ancient dragon tongue that flowed from the depths of his being, calling Aithusa to him by name – and the dragon came.

The small, almost pathetic creature landed in front of him, cowed by Merlin's presence from the start. She looked at the dragonlord, expecting nothing but harsh words of command from the enemy of the only companion she'd ever had. As Merlin studied her, he saw an indescribable wretchedness in the eyes of the dragon which pierced his heart and stirred a deep compassion within him. And slowly, inch by inch, and step by step, he gained the dragon's trust. He began by telling Aithusa the story that she'd been too young to remember – the story of how he'd saved the egg within which she'd once lived, and how he had called her into life beyond the confines of the egg and how he'd given her the name she bore – and what it meant. And Aithusa discovered the wonderful truth that Merlin possessed what Morgana didn't: the healing touch of a dragonlord that had the power to heal and restore a dragon to what it should be. And so the young dragon's stunted growth was reversed and she also slowly began to learn the language that could enable her to speak back to Merlin. Although, if truth be told, Merlin did find it very unnerving, at least at first, to hear the words of a dragon spoken in a distinctly _female _tone – although when he reflected on this later, he did have to ask himself the simple question: _well, what did you expect from a girl dragon?_

And Merlin also discovered that, whereas it had sometimes been like getting blood out of a stone trying to extract the information he'd needed from Kilgharrah, his problem was slightly different with Aithusa – trying to get her to shut up when she finally discovered that she had a voice.

As months back in Camelot turned into years, Merlin's training of the young was not, however, limited to Aithusa….

~~~ O ~~~

"Please, mother! Please let me have a lesson with Uncle Merlin this afternoon."

The queen looked at Amhar somewhat indecisively, not altogether sure that the term _lesson_ was a terribly accurate one for what usually went on between Merlin and her son. The title of _uncle _had somehow just happened from the earliest days that the warlock had spent with the boy, and neither Gwen nor Merlin had any objections. Merlin, therefore, took great delight in taking whatever opportunities presented themselves to fulfil what he saw as the responsibilities that went with that title, including Amhar's education. The queen tended to refer to that 'education', however, as _leading him astray. _

Amhar had meanwhile decided that any lack of an immediate answer from his mother meant that further persuasion was needed.

"I always learn so much with Uncle Merlin – "

"I'm sure you do," cut in Guinevere, although Amhar was still too young to recognise sarcasm when he heard it. "And you learn a lot with Geoffrey too."

The mention of the elderly court tutor and historian resulted in a large and very obvious sigh from the young boy. "But Geoffrey's lessons are…" His voice trailed off, his education already having taught him that it was rude to refer to other people or what they had to say as _boring._

The queen understood her son's sudden (and rare) inability to finish his sentence, and offered a correct and proper ending for him: "… are not so exciting as Merlin's?"

Amhar nodded enthusiastically, immensely pleased that his feelings had been exactly described without him having to be told off for being impolite.

Guinevere looked down at her son's large and pleading eyes, and sighed. "Very well – just make sure you're back here in time for supper," although she had to say the last words with her voice slightly raised to make sure that he heard, given that he was already almost out of the door as she said them. The queen had at that point, however, not even the slightest hint of the extent to which any misgivings she felt were going to be far surpassed. Although no one was in any doubt of her feelings on the matter some four hours later…

"Merlin! What were you THINKING!?"

Merlin wasn't exactly bringing to mind what he had been thinking or had done at that moment. He was, perhaps unwisely, reflecting on the fact that he didn't think he'd ever seen the queen looking quite so mad, and how it actually reminded him so much of Arthur. He suddenly snapped back to reality, and realised he'd been asked a question to which he probably needed to give some sort of answer.

"Um, I was thinking that…. er…. it would be good for Amhar to…..er….. learn a new skill."

"A NEW SKILL! That's not how I would describe it!"

Merlin turned his head slightly to look down at Amhar who was standing by his side trying to look chastened, although he was finding that extremely difficult as all he actually wanted to do was grin from ear to ear. Merlin quickly and quietly mouthed to the boy, "Which part of '_don't tell your mother_' did you not understand?" which only led to Amhar grinning all the more.

But Gwen was only just warming up. "Do I need to remind you that Amhar is heir to the throne, and putting him in completely unnecessary danger is foolhardy beyond belief?!"

"It wasn't that high…." offered Merlin.

"Not '_that high_'?! My son runs in telling me that he's flown above the forest, and you tell me that it wasn't _'that high'_?" Gwen had both her arms folded by this point, as if she meant business.

"Dragons can fly much higher than that and – "

The queen cut in, "I don't care how high they can fly, Merlin! What I do care about is that my son was on the back of a dragon, flying at a height that meant that if he'd fallen off then – "

" – then I would have held him in mid-air using magic and brought him down gently," completed Merlin.

But the queen was in no mood for excuses or explanations, however valid.

"It was still completely reckless, Merlin. What do you have to say for yourself?"

A little mischievous grin came to the warlock's face, as he framed the perfect answer: "Arthur would have let him."

"Don't you dare try to get out of trouble by playing that card with me, Merlin!"

But he had. And it had succeeded - because Gwen knew that Merlin was, of course, absolutely right. In fact, there were times when people (including herself sometimes) forgot that Amhar wasn't actually Arthur's child. Whether it was being brought up as a prince with no siblings, or the influence of Merlin, or simple fate, the simple fact was that Amhar reminded them of Arthur. He not only had Arthur's blond hair and blues eyes (which he'd inherited from Lily) but also his love of physical pursuits and adventure, and he had a boldness which some also described as recklessness. And like his true father, Amhar also seemed to have an uncanny skill when he had a wooden sword in his hand.

Gwen shook her head, knowing that she was defeated but unwilling to admit it.

Merlin grinned again, "He has got the name _Pendragon_ after all."

The queen managed a little smile, and said the most gracious thing she could manage at that moment, "Alright, you're forgiven."

To which Amhar excitedly added possibly the most ill-timed and ill-advised thing he could have then said: "Can I have another go, then?"

~~~ O ~~~

Much as Merlin found a home back in Camelot, there was also a restlessness in his heart that never went away. Although he spent most of his time in the city, he wasn't bound to Camelot, and spent much time roaming the kingdom and beyond. It was not with any definite purpose, but for a reason he couldn't fully understand, he felt a deep seated need to be out travelling and seeing the world, and all it had to teach him. But wherever his travels took him, he always returned to the lake every year on the anniversary of Arthur's death. He would stand by the lakeside, and would imagine his friend there and would talk to him. He felt closer to Arthur there than anywhere else.

And so the years passed, and the time came when he finally said goodbye to Gaius and laid him to rest, and he mourned long for the mentor who had been like a father to him. Merlin and Gwen remained close friends through all her life, and even as the years became decades, they still spoke of Arthur often and always with deep fondness and love. The warlock allowed his body to show signs of age as the years slipped by, though in truth he could just as easily have worn the same youthful face he'd had when he first entered Camelot, time having no power to age his body as it did for all others.

The queen never married again. Although many presented themselves as suitors and appropriate matches to her, her thoughts on the matter were simple and unchanging: _how could she marry again if there were even the slightest chance of Arthur returning during her lifetime? _She ruled well, but occasionally a knight or a council member or a servant would find her at a window, staring across Camelot's grand courtyard towards the drawbridge, as if Arthur would suddenly come riding through its stone entrance, his red cloak billowing in the wind.

And in her old age as her end approached, Merlin stood at her side as she lay quietly on her bed.

A smile came to her old but still beautiful face: "Once more, Merlin – do it just one last time for me."

And before her very eyes, Merlin transformed in an instant back into the young warlock that she had known so well. Seeing him standing there like that made it easier for her to remember Arthur as he'd been when she lost him – so full of life and in his prime.

She whispered softly to Merlin, "He didn't come," and there was a tear in her eye.

Merlin smiled gently, "No, but now you're going to him."

Gwen saw the look of longing in his eyes, and Merlin added, "Give him my love."

Both of them had lived over fifty years since the king's death, but there was never a day when Arthur was not in their thoughts.

And when the queen finally slipped out of Merlin's world and into the next, he made sure that her final wishes were carried out. He and Amhar stood together on the shores of the lake that surrounded the Isle of Avalon, as Merlin uttered once again the words he'd last spoken when it was Arthur rather than Gwen lying in the burial boat: "In sibbe gerest." And once again, his eyes flashed gold.

But as the boat bearing the queen's body -completely surrounded by white lilies mixed with gillyflowers - glided away across the surface of the lake, there was no mist this time to bear it away into the afterlife, and so as it reached the deep water, Merlin uttered the words of magic that ignited the flames which would take both the boat and the body of Camelot's queen down into the depths of the lake.

And Merlin wept for the passing of all those who had been most dear to him.

_**Author's note**_

_**One more chapter to go – and most of it is already written! And it will go a little way beyond where the BBC left it. **___


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

_**Author's note**_

_**So here it is, finally – the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it and find it a satisfying ending**_

No earthly kingdom lasts forever, and as the decades became centuries, the kingdom of Camelot passed first into history and then into legend. Although Albion remained, the city with its proud turrets and towers over which Arthur had once ruled gradually became a ruin, and Merlin roamed the country with no town or city to call home. He'd seen all those he had loved die, and eventually even Aithusa's time came, although not before she had gifted him a dragon's egg. Gaius had once told him that, being a creature of magic, dragons did not always need to mate in the usual way of animals, at which point Merlin interrupted him to move the conversation on (not convinced that he wanted to know whatever it was that Gaius was about to tell him), muttering something about _'too much detail'_. So he never found out exactly how a dragon's egg was produced, but he treasured the egg that Aithusa had left him and kept it safe – for a time when maybe not only the return of a king would be needed, but also the return of a dragon.

And as the years slipped by, he continued to guard the kingdom that he and Arthur had built, called Albion by them but known more in later times as Britain. He guarded its monarchs, he protected the land where he could from the forces of evil and corruption, and sought to bring justice where the normal courts failed. He was, however, only ever a shadow, an unseen hand that worked for the kingdom's good. And time and time again, the unexpected good fortune of the land or of its sovereign remained unexplained, for no-one saw the eyes that flashed gold in a land where those who had magic became an ever smaller number.

Merlin's walk through the world was, therefore, a solitary one. He occasionally made friends along the way – though only ever for a short while - and none of them ever came even close to knowing the truth about the old man with the long white beard. Although Merlin could still take on the appearance of any age, he quickly found out that as an old man he was generally asked less questions and was, in the main, left alone – and that was the way he liked it. To begin with he simply gave his name as Merlin, but then took to calling himself Emrys, and even sometimes combined the two into Emlyn. What was certainly the case, however, was that as more centuries slipped by, he ceased calling himself Merlin altogether. And the reason was simple – it received too many raised eyebrows.

The fact of the matter was, of course, that Geoffrey of Monmouth had indeed written his history of all that had happened in Camelot, and although that history did not contain all the details that had been revealed to Gwen, it did include the mighty sorcerer Merlin, whose name was honoured alongside that of King Arthur. And although parents down through the centuries seemed happy to name their sons after the most noble king ever to have walked the lands, it was a brave parent who chose to name their hapless child after a sorcerer, making it difficult for Merlin to call himself by his own name (and still be taken seriously).

Merlin did, of course, fulfil his promise to Gwen to write down the true story of all that had happened in its entirety – although it took him several hundred years to get round to it, and even then only when he had finally established somewhere he could call home. He acquired a small, isolated stone house in countryside to the north of Avalon, barely a mile away from there. Not that there was a lake there anymore. And not that it was called Avalon either. A small settlement had grown up a little way to the north-west of the lake, which took the name Glastonbury, and the passing years had seen the waters of the lake that weren't used by the expanding town drain away into the nearby rivers, gradually leaving the tower on the island as a ruin on the top of a hill surrounded by grasslands. The house that Merlin had chosen was close enough to Avalon to be able to walk there in not much more than a quarter of an hour, but far enough away from any other civilisation to keep it free from prying eyes and curious youngsters (and somehow he seemed to be able to keep it that way by a whole series of seemingly mysterious laws, by-laws and - in much later years -planning regulations, of whose origins no one ever seemed sure).

His house was kept as tidy as his room had been in Camelot – in other words, not at all – and there were frequently books and papers and all manner of weird and wonderful objects strewn across almost every single horizontal surface, including the floor. And as Camelot had become a ruin, Merlin had saved the (now weathered) statue of Arthur (complete with plinth), and put the large monument into the small living room of his stone cottage, adding considerably to the chaos and clutter of his abode. He did, however, have to separate the figure of Arthur from the plinth, as the ceiling was too low to accommodate the statue in all its glory, and Merlin didn't fancy having Arthur's head poking up through the floorboards into his bedroom above. Besides, he found that the plinth doubled as a handy table (and many years later, as a TV stand), and he covered it with a creased, chequered cloth which left all the wording, save _Father of Albion, _out of sight. He hoped that no one would ever ask him how the statue got into his living room, as it was clearly far too big to go through either the door or any of the windows. So he concluded that it was probably better if no one even saw it or, come to that, any part of the inside of his house: _they would think him eccentric! Eccentric? He was a sorcerer!_

And it was amongst all this chaos that Merlin eventually (sometime in the eighteenth century) finally put pen to paper – although in Merlin's case, this was purely figurative, as pen and ink were not of course required. It had taken several evenings to relate all the stories to Guinevere, but it took him several months to complete the writing. In the many years that followed he would, from time to time, pick up the resulting large tome and flick through it, smiling to himself as it evoked dear memories of a time that was forever receding further from him.

He also followed, of course, all the other stories that grew up over time about himself and Arthur and the court of Camelot. Merlin often smiled to himself as he read them, knowing that his words to Arthur had been true – that he would be a king who would be remembered down through all of history. Some of the stories and what came to be legends amused him, but others angered him, and the characters were sometimes so distorted that the only resemblance they bore to the actual people who had lived and breathed were their names. It saddened him to read accounts that so elevated the love between Lancelot and Guinevere that Arthur was virtually side-lined or turned into a weak, ineffectual king, and more than once, a book would be thrown onto the floor in disgust, with the words, "Pah! What do they know?" And as those stories were turned into films as history slipped into the twentieth century, Merlin had to stop watching them at the cinema, as he had a tendency to laugh out loud at some particular characterisation, which left other members of the audience tutting at him for his outburst in what seemed, to all intents and purposes, a perfectly serious scene.

But over the centuries one phrase echoed through his mind again and again: _When Albion's need is greatest._ He wondered why Arthur didn't return in the blackest days of the country's history, when battles raged on native soil or when marauding armies threatened to invade. He would almost feel guilty for the hope that rose within him as Britain slid into darkness at points in its history, but then the dull ache of disappointment would numb his heart every time the dark clouds of war lifted and the sun broke through over the land again – without Arthur having returned.

There then came a time, however, early in the twenty-first century, when darkness rose once again. But this time it was different. Strange events began to stalk the kingdom – and Merlin knew the point at which it had all begun. There had been a night when Merlin had lain tossing and turning upon his bed, sleep eluding him for reasons that were not clear to him. Although an excess of caffeine (which was in abundant supply by this time) may have been the cause of sleepless nights on other occasions, he had only drunk tea that evening, which never kept him awake. He had occasionally managed to slip into a short doze during the troubled night, and wasn't therefore sure whether he had dreamed the sound or actually heard it – either way, he'd ended up suddenly wide awake with the faraway note of a horn being sounded ringing in his ears, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't hearing the horn on a vehicle. This was something very different. He'd strained his ears, but could hear nothing more, but as he lay down again he'd felt a deep unease stir within him at the distant memory of a horn that Arthur had once put to his lips.

And shortly afterwards he began to notice the changes. The news reports on the television spoke of freak weather in Britain. There were floods in the summer, droughts in the winter, snow when there should have been the warmth of lengthening days. And all the while so-called experts spoke of climate change and global warming, but Merlin knew different. He felt the stirrings of something he hadn't felt for a very long time – for centuries, in fact: magic. But it was a deep, dark magic that brought back memories of both Mordred and Morgana. And Merlin's unease grew.

And one day as he idly watched the news, his mind on other things, the BBC's West of England correspondent came on with a report. Merlin was scarcely listening as the reporter continued, "And as the unseasonably heavy rain continues, the River Brue has burst its banks – something that certainly hasn't happened in living memory - and the legendary Glastonbury Tor has become, possibly for the first time in centuries, an island surrounded by water." It was the picture on the television screen that made it if feel as if time was suddenly standing still, and made Merlin sit up and take notice, heart pounding and instantly alert – for there, right in front of him, was once again the Isle of Avalon and the lake surrounding it.

He practically ran all the way down to the Tor, although he had to suddenly pull up to a slow walk as he approached the water, suddenly aware of the fact that there were other sight-seers with cameras who had come to witness the unprecedented flooding. The sight of an extremely old gentleman (wearing an overlarge dark grey woollen coat) being able to run as fast as any athlete, might have raised too many questions. He stood looking out on the newly formed lake, not exactly sure what to expect. He scanned the surface for ripples or any other disturbance, but all he saw was the tiny waves caused by the breeze blowing across the water. He stood there for hours, and gradually all the cameras and the people that were using them disappeared, and Merlin was left alone.

He'd been standing over the spot where he knew the stone that he'd put there centuries before was situated. Hundreds of years of winds, rains and the resulting shifting of soil had buried it and, when the waters of the lake had receded, it had ended up in the middle of a farmer's field rather than at the edge of a lake. Merlin had felt that maybe it was better that the stone and its inscription stayed that way – hidden, like Arthur, from mortal eyes. But suddenly he knelt down at the spot, once again near the water's edge, the ground that was still saturated from the rain turning the knees of his trousers deep brown. He started digging away at the earth with his bare hands, but then thought better of it. He stood and uttered words of magic that scattered earth and mud at his command, until he saw again the words that he'd first heard spoken by Kilgharrah: _The Once and Future King. _

But as the sun touched the horizon and the sky turned a deep orange colour, the lake remained perfectly calm and undisturbed, and as the last light of the day faded away, Merlin finally turned to go and slowly walked the mile or so back to his stone house. As he sat down in front of the television, a microwave chicken tikka masala (his favourite) balanced on his knees, he watched the late evening news, with its reports of further freak weather, unexpected loss of power at numerous points around the country, and a growing toll of loss of life – and he shuddered.

He went to bed in turmoil that night, and lay awake for some hours before eventually falling into a troubled sleep - and his dreams were filled with dragons and strange images and swords. And then it happened - just as the hours of darkness were drawing to an end. In his sleep he heard a voice calling his name, as he had done in Camelot all those centuries before when he had received the dragon's call. He sat bold upright in bed, but what made his heart beat as fast as if he'd just run a mile was the voice that called his name – it was a voice that he hadn't heard for hundreds of years, and yet when he heard it, he recognised it straightaway. It was unmistakable – the voice of a young king. It was Arthur.

It was still dark as Merlin propelled himself out of bed, but when he tried the light-switch nothing happened, the result of yet another power-cut. He groped around in the dark for a candle for several moments, swearing mildly under his breath out of frustration, and then suddenly cried out in the dark, "Oh for goodness sake….. Leot!" And the light-bulb began to glow brightly without electricity. He pulled on the first clothes he could lay his hands on (which happened to be those lying on the floor where he'd cast them off a few hours previously), falling to the floor as he tried and failed to pull on his trousers with more haste than was sensible. And suddenly as he looked at his hands as they started to pull up the trousers again, he became aware of something he'd been oblivious to when he'd awoken – they were not the old and wrinkled hands of the cranky sorcerer that he'd had when he'd gone to bed. The changing of his appearance was always something that was under his control, but somehow, without him consciously making it happen, he was once again the young warlock. And with that realisation, his hands began to tremble, making dressing at speed even more difficult.

As he ran down to the lake for the second time in less than a day, the dawn was breaking, and the early light of morning was beginning to illuminate the water. An early morning mist hung low over the lake, and he stared across its surface, his heart pounding - and not just from the exertion of the run. For what seemed like an age, nothing happened, and the only sounds that broke the silence were the birds beginning to greet the new day. As the daylight began to strengthen, he was gazing so intently into the white mist that he suddenly began to wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him, because it seemed to him as if there was a tiny dot way off in the distance that was darker than the mist around it. But as he blinked and stared, the dot very slowly got larger, and eventually formed itself into the shape of a small boat, gliding silently towards him – and Merlin could scarcely breathe.

He began wading out into the water as the boat very gradually came closer and closer, until the water was up to his thighs. He hardly seemed to notice the chill of the water, however, because it soon became clear that there was a figure lying in the boat, largely hidden by its slightly higher rim. And then the boat was upon him, and he took hold of it, bringing its silent passage to a halt. And there was Arthur. He was dressed in the familiar white tunic, brown trousers and long boots that Merlin remembered so well, with a brown leather belt fastened loosely around his waist. His eyes were closed, and he was lying on a bed of cut reeds, as he'd done all those years before – the same to all intents and purposes, except…..

Except this Arthur did not have an ugly gash in his side staining his garments red, and there was no pallor of death on his skin. Instead, he was a picture of health and vitality. There was colour in his cheeks and no lines of worry or weariness clinging to his face, and over all his features there was a look of deep peace and contentment. And although his hands were again linked together on his chest, this time they were also clasped around the hilt of a sword that had no equal, and on the blade of which were engraved in an ancient tongue the words: _Take me up, Cast me away._

Merlin, his heart racing, reached out a hand hesitantly and laid it on Arthur's forehead – it was warm, not cold as it had been the last time when he'd sent his body off across the lake. And it was then that Merlin noticed the almost imperceptible rhythmic rise and fall of Arthur's chest. Merlin suddenly felt the wetness of tears running down his cheeks, and once again, he could barely breathe. For a few moments he fought to compose himself before he finally, in not much more than a whisper, uttered the name he hadn't spoken for such a very long time: "Arthur." Despite his best efforts, the single word still came out fairly choked. He stood in the water and waited for what felt like an eternity but was, in reality, only a few seconds. The steady breathing of the prone figure suddenly became a large intake of breath, followed by a long, contented exhalation, as if simply stirring from a deep and refreshing slumber. And then Arthur opened his eyes.

His peaceful face transformed for a moment, when their eyes met, into a look of perplexity – as if he was trying to place a face – and then a look of recognition slowly began to form on his face, as if from a long forgotten memory. And then the recognition formed itself into a broad smile and a single word: "Merlin!" But as Arthur began to raise himself up slowly to a sitting position, it was as if there were suddenly far too many unknowns bombarding his mind for them to form themselves into one coherent question, and the extent of his sense of disorientation meant that all he could manage to verbalise was, "What….?" And the only reply that Merlin could give through his tears was, "You've been asleep….. for a very long time."

Merlin wiped his hand across his eyes and they then flashed gold one more as he raised his hand, propelling the boat to the shore as he pushed his legs through the water as fast as he could beside it. The boat made a dull grating sound as it came to rest on what was now the shore of the lake, and Arthur – a look of wonder have replaced the disorientation on his face – stood on the stationary boat. He took a moment to take in the world around him, and then quickly and deftly stepped down to where Merlin stood, dripping, on the grass beside a stone with the words, _The Once and Future King_. The two men looked at each other in silence for a moment, both faces radiant but unsure where to begin, but then without another word they embraced, as Merlin began to weep uncontrollably for joy. And as Merlin held Arthur once again, a small list formed unbidden in the ancient warlock's mind: _a dragon's egg, a sword that can kill the dead, and the greatest king of legend_. And as the word _legend_ went through his mind, he thought to himself, _maybe it's time to write a new one_. But he had, of course, omitted from his mental list the most important part of the legend that he and Arthur were about to create: the greatest sorcerer ever to have lived.

~~~ The End ~~~

_**Author's note**_

_**So there you are – I hope it worked for you! (By the way, Merlin's favourite being chicken tikka masala came out in the spoof the cast did for Children In Need in 2009.) Thanks to the hundred or so of you who have been reading the story. Please do leave a review if you liked it – it does give an indication to other readers that you think it's worth reading! **_

_**Two final things, if you will indulge me. Firstly, a recommendation: I've just found and read (in a very short length of time) Stephen Lawhead's Pendragon series. Five excellent books that took the legend to a whole new level for me, and in which I thought there were some striking links with the BBC series at points. (Interestingly, Merlin only arrives at the end of the first book – the rest of the first book is set in Atlantis! The exclamation marks are because Atlantis is the Merlin replacement on the BBC this autumn!) It's all very celtic and set as Britain went into the dark ages.**_

_**And finally, a quote. I read this earlier in the year and loved it because it resonated so much with my love of Merlin. It may not fit in with everyone's worldview, and it's not intended to 'preach' – I JUST LOVED IT and wanted to share it, and it seemed a nice way to wrap up this labour of love that has been "From Camlann to Avalon"**_

"_Monarchy is not much in fashion any more, but something deep in us wants a king. Think about the adventure stories that thrilled your soul as a child (or even today!). It's no coincidence that so many of them feature a king, a noble and wise and courageous and sacrificial ruler who delivers his people from their enemies. Those stories resonate with us because we were created to have exactly that kind of king. We were made to live under the authority of a perfect monarch; and the absolute rule of Jesus the Messiah will outlast all other political systems." ("Passion", Mike McKinley)_


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